Day 1-41

Day 1
January 4, 2010 – 2 Responses

 Today is the first day of duplicating an experiment that I tried nearly 8 years ago. It has been my wish ever since that all would know the transformative power of praying the life of Jesus, praying the rosary.

The premise of the experiment: Pray the rosary with a sincere heart for 40 days.

The results: Miraculous.

Background: In recent days I have felt the desire intensify for all people to try the experiment. During prayer on 1/1/10 I became overwhelmed with the startling notion that the experiment was meant to be put into action right away and even more shocking,  it was meant to be started right here in my very home with my not so prayerful family.

Is it possible that my agnostic husband, myself and my three strong-willed children were meant to gather once a day  in 17 minutes intervals for forty days and pray the rosary together?

Three objections screeched through my mind, poised to pierce this spiritual bubble:

Objection 1:  How could a family that barely averages one meal a week together commit to such schedule?

Objection 2: In the past I have prayed the rosary with two of my three children and there were squabbles over who gets the snuggliest blankie, who leads the prayer and even kicking with a proclamation of “His feet are touching me!” How could we possibly transcend this circus for forty days ?

Objection 3: My husband is a dear man who has come a long way on his journey.  At this juncture he wouldn’t dream of discouraging a little one; he has discarded the disapproving eye rolls at the mealtime blessing  and even partakes in the bedtime tuck in prayer.Yet, asking for a commitment like this had me tremble at the potential scoffing.

As my dear therapist friend likes to say, “It all feels like too much.” So I, with all of my too muchness, approached my husband with my vision of the experiment, and then I let loose the zinger, “It is for our whole family to try.”  I don’t know if it was the pleading look in my eye or maybe a little sympathy (health challenges over the last few months have me a little on the gaunt side) he readily said the sweetest words I have ever heard, “I would do anything for you dear.”                   

Final Outcome: At dinner on 1/3/10 I presented the experiment to the family and with my husband’s support, the children agreed to participate.  As I was ready to plunge forward and begin Day 1, dad pronounced that we would begin in two days on Monday January 4, 2010. I was beginning to sense that I might have an official partner in this venture, but then I realized my husband was looking down, I -Phone in hand, apparently attending to work email.

I next explained to the children that I needed to establish a baseline, a sort of spiritual temperature taking before the experiment begins. The youngest, age 7 and most sincere in his prayers, says “I am medium”. My daughter, 10, true to her wit states “Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs” ( a recent kid flick) and the budding teenager, who had slipped away, aloof from the next room playing X-Box, mumbles “I’m a 3 out of 10.” My husband then chimes in with a familiar catchy beat, “They have an app for that!” and the Joyful Mystery of the rosary began to play on his cell phone. While he pleaded the 5th Amendment to the spiritual thermometer, his marks were outstanding in the partner department.

Day 1 Details:  On this last day of our winter vacation I woke up worried about all that lie ahead and our actual ability to stick with this commitment. Worry like this called for major action. When I start taking on a burden instead of allowing God to shine in and through the situation,  it is officially time for adjustment. Before anyone was up I called upon St. Michael for some serious courage and protection, and I attended daily mass in my favorite chapel. It was there that I sat afterwards in front of the Blessed Sacrament and wrote the background for the experiment. Fr. Ron just told us Pope John Paul II was always in the chapel. I knew it worked wonders for Rev Fulton Sheen. It had helped me countless times before, so I decided to stick with a sure bet.  And sure it was, like a pacifier to a newborn, I found my peace and moved on to my next adjustment, chiropractic that is. The post-Christmas plane ride and the upright seat position popped my neck again, so predictable.

At 7:10pm all 5 of us gathered on various family room pieces of furniture and listened as dad turned on his new I-phone app. We all prayed along with the regal  sounding man on the recording as we recollected the events of Jesus’s early life. Until that is, Dad got a work call on his cell phone. “Oops, I didn’t think of that.” Once we made it past that and one freakout – little fingers not being able to keep track of the beads, we officially made it, Day 1 accomplished!

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 2
January 5, 2010 – Leave a Response

Many fascinating changes occurred to me after I started to pray the rosary. Until my mid thirties, I believed that for me personally, abortion was wrong and not an option. Regarding other women, however, I was not so adamant. The Clinical Social Worker in me was tolerant of other’s viewpoints. Probably because I was not overly convicted in my heart, I never even considered speaking out about my beliefs. The amazing part about devotion to prayer, knowing the life of Jesus in the form of the rosary, is my realignment towards truth and a genuine conviction to back it up.This conviction became so clear in my heart that I knew that I knew that I knew. I was sure.

When you are sure of truth, disparity becomes unbearable; who you are on the inside has to match who you are on the outside. So over the years I have made several outward realignments. Once I even surprised myself by readily answering a Lenten call to pray with a dear friend (one of three who led me to do the initial experiment) in front of an abortion clinic. In addition, I am an avid supporter of our local pregnancy center. This leads to the reason why I am unable to pray the rosary with my family tonight.

One day out of each month I have an evening commitment at the local pregnancy center from 6:30-9pm. So yesterday the family voted. The choices were: early rosary with mom before meeting – dad prays his rosary alone or mom prays alone and dad prays with kids when he gets home at 7pm. The kids are in bed before 9pm so waiting for mom is not an option. It was unanimous, “WE PICK DAD!”

Hmmm, is this because he is the best chance of getting out of our new-found commitment? Or is the novelty of dad using the Lord’s name reverently just too intriguing?

I prayed my part. I guess I’ll find out more at 9pm.

9:30pm Dad reports that they recited the Sorrowful Mysteries along with the Mary Foundation CD and despite some wiggles from the youngest, all prayers were said and now it was time for dad to do some real relaxation…Call of Duty on XBox.bam. bam. bam.

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 3
January 7, 2010 – Leave a Response

I woke up this morning a bit dazed as I let the events of yesterday soak into my heart. A few short days ago if someone told me that my husband would be leading my three children in the recitation of prayers to our heavenly Lord, I would have written them off as delusional to the point of Baker Act.

 As a result of this contemplation, I proceed throughout my day with a sense of awe that we might actually be dabbling in the realm of the miraculous.

8pm:  For the last hour I had to detach from my excruciating impulse to flip out because of concern that our first grader would be too tired in the morning seeing as it was past his bedtime. Because of work stuff, we were praying an hour later than scheduled.After recollection, I decided the experiment was worth juggling the schedule, and we would deal with the consequences.

After finally assembling in the family room, I asked if anyone would like to say their prayer requests out loud before we begin. After a silent moment, I state ” I pray for the gift of faith for everyone.” Dad with a warmed up dinner in his lap, states that he wants what he said the other day. “I want for my family to be nice to one another. I want us to be close and  to stop all of this fighting. I want us to rely on each other.” The youngest stated ” I want us to be a good family and to be nice, and I want mom to get better.”

When more silence occurred, dad stated that he wanted for everyone to participate so we could all support each other and pray for each other, so we could all be a team. After more prodding the oldest stated the prayer he has cried over since second grade, “I want us to believe and have the gift of faith.” For an entire year at age 7 I had to console my son. Every night he would groan ” Mom, I don’t really believe in Jesus, and I don’t want to go to hell, help me mommy.” So for the last five years I have been repeating my mantra, “God knows your heart. He has big plans for you. You are going to be a great man for Him. Keep seeking. Keep knocking. Faith is a gift. It will come at the perfect time. I love you. I will pray for you.” ……..”Yes son, if you died tomorrow I believe with all of my heart that God would let you in heaven.”

 As if that isn’t wrenching enough for a mother,  then there is my daughter and her prayer request. Her intention is finally divulged after we plead and coax her to at least let it out on paper. With that she throws the paper at me from a place so deep and wounded that anger rages and tears flow –  simultaneously. It is no surprise that her prayer is for Daisy. And  implicit in the prayer is a plea from her inner self , a plea for forgiveness and for freedom from her own hell, her unending torturous guilt.

9pm: Prayers said. All on their way to bed, especially mom.

Day 3 He prayed with renewed fervor and participation.

My other story has nothing to do with prayer and a bit to do with smut. It is hard to believe that my budding teen jams around the house to Come on Eileen, U2 and Depeche Mode. I get to relive my 80’s big hair moments while my son listens to his favorite radio station. So earlier today when he was singing along to Angel is a Centerfold, I was asked, “Mom, what’s a centerfold?” So I put on my best “I’m cool; I can answer anything voice” and said “Well, do you remember the talk we had about pornography? A centerfold is a picture, in the center of a magazine, and it is usually of a girl without her clothes on.” He responded with an “oh.” I explained that the world makes it really enticing to go over to the “other” side, and it always seems really fun and interesting otherwise so many people wouldn’t fall for it. I then asked him, “Isn’t there someone really special in the bible who that happened to? Some guy who was like the wisest guy in all the land and even though he started out strong, he ended really bad.” Looks like the fine Christian education is paying off  – he said, “Yeah, mom. It was Solomon. He was the wisest man in all the land and then he had to have a thousand wives.”  I closed by saying “It must be really tempting, all that kindof stuff, for the wisest man ever to fall and end up on the bad team.” Once again he walked off puzzled and pondering.

7:40pm All in family room, all said prayer request, using the Mary Foundation CD all contemplated the Luminous Mysteries – Jesus’s baptism, Jesus’s first miracle at the request of his mother, Jesus proclaiming the kingdom of God, Jesus’s transfiguration and the evidence for his real presence in the bread and wine.

Day 4
January 7, 2010 – One Response

Over the last two days I had two interesting conversations with my 12 year old son. On Day 3 I pulled him aside and said “Ya know, this experiment thing is a pretty neat opportunity for you.” He looked at me suspiciously. During the first few days of prayer I saw that my son had only tipped one toe into this experiment. I encouraged him to take a chance, to pray with everything he had, to jump in with both feet full force. “Do this and then you could cut yourself some slack, ” I said. He questioned how this could be. “Well after 40 days, if there is no change you can finally back off and chill for a while. Go to church when I make you and get by with just the bare minimum.”

With eyes cocked and suspicion now off the chart, he used the secret code word; a code to which he was only recently given the right of passage. Established and fabricated a generation ago, this special word is only invoked in those moments when one needs to know the real truth, no more joking or kidding. This is the kind of moment that lightning strikes you down if you say this word and you actually are being untruthful. When I spoke of the notion of my son actually backing off the God stuff for a while if praying the rosary made no difference in his life, He said, “Y-A-Qui?” (pronounced ee- ah-key)To which I responded, “Y-A-Qui!”

He walked away puzzled, pondering our exchange. I imagined that he was saying to himself, “Mom was willing to put all her spiritual chips on the table for this experiment. She believes that strongly in Mary’s intercessory power that she’s going to quit dragging me to First Fridays and confession and all the other field trips she conjers up if I experience nothing from all of this. Man, she’s not messing around. All right, I’ll try it, I’ll really try it. If the worst that could happen is that I get out of all of her antics, I’m in!”

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 5
January 9, 2010 – Leave a Response

Talk about a circus, I don’t know why we came up with this idea: Instead of praying along with The Mary Foundation CD it was suggested that each family member say a decade of the prayers, 5 people, 5 decades, perfect?

 This meant tonight we would be taking our maiden voyage at going it solo. We would not be praying with the structure of the 17 minute CD and it’s perfectly timed prompts.  As the ship left port mutiny quickly ensued. This included verbal swashbuckling and a threat by one child to walk the plank to their bedroom if the audio was not utilized. The analytical sequential processors had no patience for those who are more abstract and random; the vigil rapidly deteriorated into harshness, demands for full vocal participation, along with arguments over who would go first.

If that wasn’t irreverent enough, once the ship refueled a blast of blasphemy swept through the sofa in the form of a laugh attack while praying the Sorrowful Mysteries of the passion and death of our Lord Jesus Christ. How could this be, scourging and belly laughs? It took the presentation of the 3rd Mystery, The Crowning of Thorns and the fact that Jesus was not only mocked with a crown of brain piercing barbs but also the mention that He was even spat upon to finally calm the natives. Jesus’s profound humility and stamina to “die to self” in the face of brutality, injustice, and intolerable insensibility got us back on track.

Thank you St. Michael, keeper of the sword. Thank you St. Joseph, protector of the family.

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 6
January 10, 2010 – Leave a Response

Today I asked my daughter during an alone moment in the car, “What do you think of this experiment thing?” Her response had me forgetting for a moment that she was only 10 years old. “What is the goal?” she questioned. I purposely didn’t give her the background of the goal, a goal that has been slowly molding and gelling since the 2006 trip to Mexico. I simply gave her a one word answer to which she was perfectly satisfied, “Change.”

Background – Part One: 2006 was a year when all my children were attending weekly catechism classes, and my oldest brought home a story from class, an account of a historical event that occurred December 9-December 12, 1531. This occurence was so powerful and mesmerizing that, as a result, 9 million persons had a change of heart and were baptised. Even more amazing, the evidence of this story of Our Lady of Guadalupe is still visible and literally tangible until this very day.

After inwardly savoring this historical event, my mental hands held on to the details so tightly, not a finger of distraction could be plied away. I can’t explain it except to say that during January of that year I felt a relentless longing for our family to experience Our Lady of Guadalupe and partake in this Truth in person.

Just a few months later during spring break, after proceeding through a string of logistical doors that only God Almighty could prop open, my desire was made manifest. We were on our way to Mexico City! I would like to say that everyone in the family became consumed with this longing and could not bear another day without a firsthand account of this happening. In actuality, I sandwiched the Mother of God in between adventures touring Mexican ruins and pyramids and outrageous fishing for sailfish in Acapulco. (The evidenece of which still hangs on my son’s wall – all 6 feet of it!)A win, win situation for all!

So here is the meat of that sandwich( which can be found in much greater, clearer detail on the internet): 500 years ago in the geographic region of our spring break trip the Aztec Indians were in full worship of their gods. On a regular basis they would offer human sacrifices on their altar, a fresh heart to appease the gods. The newly arriving Spaniards were horrified by what they encountered. As a result, some took their supernatural Christian call to convert the locals into their earthly hands. These hands utilized tactics that were barbaric and far from brotherly love. They attempted to force the indigenous people,  those whom they questioned as not even fully human, into submission. This debacle went downhill fast, and there was no apparent solution. The Bishop of the time was at his wit’s end. He knew the Indian people needed conversion, and he knew the conversion tactics were beyond humane and beyond fruitless.

During this period of dilemma, on December 9, 1531 Juan Diego heard a beautiful voice in his native tongue and saw a marvelous vision. Over the next few days he was visited by the Virgin Mary. She asked him to have the Bishop build a church on Tepeyac Hill but the Bishop dismissed Juan Diego and his request. It wasn’t until Juan Diego arrived with his cactus fiber cloak  filled with Castilian roses that he was given an audience. These roses, uncharacteristic of the season, appeared and were arranged at the hand of the Blessed Mother. In the presence of the Bishop, Juan Diego opened his cloak called a tilma, expecting to reveal the roses,  when a most spectacular sight manifested on his tilma, one that is still on display today and is pictured below.

our lady of guadalupe

Blessed Mother Mary appeared with the most powerful story to tell. Through this miraculous image (proven not to be a hoax), she delved right into the hearts of the people and made a change. Appearing with the skin coloration of one who is half Indian and half Spaniard, the Blessed Mother reached out to all cultures, humanizing all the people of the Americas. With this appearance she teaches that all are worthy of dignity and love. Every tiny detail of her garment leads lovingly to the Truth. With her eyes bowed, the Blessed Mother signifies that she comes in humility of one who is greater than herself, the one true God of the universe.  She reveals that she is the bearer of the Christ as the sash is tied above her waist (an indication the Indians knew meant she was “with child.” ) There are multitudes of other fascinating symbolisms and details that depict the tender teaching.The  details of Juan Diego’s experience, the choice of Juan Diego and his relative, the symbolism of the garb and its coloring all are part of the evangelization.

Back in 2006 as I recounted this story to others and shared my amazement of viewing the nearly 500-year-old tilma with my own eyes,  I was left flabbergasted and baffled. Some of the most fiery Christians that I knew had no awareness of this important piece of history. People who had staked their entire existence on the evangelization of others, did not know the greatest single act of evangelism of all time.

More than my complete and utter dismay of this ignorance was something even more gut wrenching, my deep sorrow that they had no interest in learning about it. After a period of confusion and loneliness, I began to realize how thoroughly non-Catholics had been conditioned to turn away from any form of Mary. In their stride to move away from all that is Catholic, they tossed aside Jesus’s Mother. How coud this be? After all, she was: the woman at whose request Jesus performed his first miracle, the woman who visited Elizabeth and at the sound of Mary’s voice John the Baptist leapt in his mother’s womb, the woman who appears in Revelation pregnant, clothed with the sun and the moon under her feet( the picture above, perhaps), and not to mention the Mother of God – how could She get tossed aside?

Fortunately Background- Part Two, for tomorrow should be much shorter.

8:00pm Dad took a bold stand and stated that he felt it was important for the family to work together and be able to say the rosary as a team without the audio. With much less backlash than last night, each member did their part. Although, several decades were recited by one child beneath a cave of pillows. The after dinner, before prayer declaration of “Shut up” by a child to an adult necessitated a pre-prayer chastisement. This disciplinary action resulted in hibernation for decades one, two and three. Fortunately by the time we were remembering what happened to Jesus at age twelve, hearts melted, and the cub came out of the cave. I think the Fourth Joyful Mystery, Finding of Jesus in the Temple – the notion that Jesus bolted from his parents,  parents searched frantically for him for three days and then son had the audacity to say to his glazed over mom, “Don’t you know I would be in my Father’s house?” had my kids recoiling at the thought of Jesus’s chastisement. After all, the bible tells us that after this,  ”He obeyed his parents and did not displease them again!”

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 7
January 11, 2010 – Leave a Response

Background -Part 2: I just received an interesting phone call. My husband, who is not reading my blog until we complete the experiment,asked me some questions. (I think he doesn’t want his roaring Leo personality to sway me from my “Call of Duty.”)

The line of questioning went like this: “Who is this experiment for exactly? Is it for Catholics?” I explained that I wanted all people, especially Christians to know about Mary and how she leads people to her Son. “How could that be, aren’t we supposed to be going straight to God?”  He said. Perhaps my husband’s exposure to a Baptist Church as a youngster planted this seed. Yet, I thought his Baptist aunt would have shed some light on this issue; after all, she makes and prays a rosary a day.

In response, I offerred this line of thinking:  if a boy was really sick, would the parents only go straight to God with their prayers or would they also ask neighbors, friends, elders and so on to pray to God for their son?  The answer is obvious: we enlist others for prayer. Given this, wouldn’t everyone like to have someone  praying for them who is inextricably linked to Jesus in ways so profound and enmeshed that the two hearts feel each other’s emotions with a depth beyond all others? Wouldn’t everyone want the Mother of God to go to her son on their behalf?

I think people who seek Mary’s prayers have long been misunderstood. I have witnessed the confusion; those of other faiths comment that Mary is worshipped as a God. This is far from the truth. I think people who experience the Blessed Mother’s intercessory power are awe-stricken and as a result she is revered. She is given special honor because of her special role with her Son.

I didn’t always think like this, not at all.I was raised a cradle Catholic who evolved into someone who considered herself more a Christian than the former. It wasn’t until the birth of my second child and a move out-of-state that my beliefs got juggled.

Out of loneliness and desperation after a move away from family and friends, I joined a Renew Mom’s Group at the local Catholic Church. It is diagnostic to know that at this juncture in my spiritual journey my favorite book was The Game of Life and How to Play it, by Florence Scovel Shinn. Written in the 1920’s this metaphysical gem continues to have a cult-like following. It was the prosperity thinking of its time. As a matter of fact, Florence and her crone Emmet Fox along with like-minded Norman Vincent Peale could have a packed a stadium full of followers in its day.The appeal for me of this brand of Christianity was the notion that the power of the mind could be observed, harnessed and cultivated to produce nearly any outcome.I knew this mental power far too well on the negative end of the spectrum. As a teen I followed a dangerous mental train of thought that on one occasion led to self harm. So once I caught a glimpse of a mental model on how to reframe my thinking, I was eager to channel this power for betterment. This “renewing of the mind” combined with a belief in Jesus as my Savior, to me was a winning combination.

In addition to ‘owning” the words of Florence by making them part of my worldview, there was also my more practical side. This side of the brain deferred to a personal hero of mine since 11th  grade, the unusual suspect, Benjamin Franklin. I know, you are thinking lightning, key, politics, where is she going with this. Ben was actually a fascinating man to me. At a young age he worked at bettering himself by making a list of admirable character traits and then measured himself against each one. He then proceeded to work individually on each trait, seeking to overcome any flaws. That to me was a model worth replicating.

As I participated in this prayer group I began to realize that humility was one trait that I managed to leave off the character building list. Through the witness of these fine women I began to see that there was much more to the path of enlightenment than  I had imagined. These prayerful women who truly loved the Lord and revered his Blessed Mother exposed me to a brand of faith in action that heretofore I had never seen.

I must say, while I was impressed with the depth and commitment of these women to serve and grow in the Lord, there was one glaring obstacle. Deep inside I did not understand the depth of their devotion. My spirituality did not go much beyond prayer, meditation and some level of self observation. That’s when I started inquiring of God how to grow deeper in my faith. That’s when I decided I would try an experiment.

During the 40days prior to Easter, aka lent, my form of sacrifice or new ritual to bring me closer to God was going to be to pray the rosary for all 40 days. I wanted to see if it would bring about any change. My routine was to wake before the family and make my way to the brewed coffee set on timer. After several sips in my “prayer chair” I held a printed brochure describing the applicable meditations, called Mysteries, for that day. With ease I slipped into a mode of contemplation and prayer- except for the beads. I had so readily conditioned myself to meditate that I could not and still cannot keep my fingers moving while seeking God with my mind’s eye. (I wonder if I am the only person who prays her rosary lightly on the tip of each finger so as to not disturb my focus.)

Day after day I mentally recounted the stories of Jesus with a special lenten emphasis on the sorrowful happenings. I began to plug into a real person who sufferred so much…for me.”Why would I ever want to do anything to make you sad?” I remember saying. Change came in the form of shifts of awareness, awareness of Jeus as a real person. A realization that he was countercultural and peculiar to the people of his day. In a new way I was aware of Jesus truly as my savior and in a humble way, I was aware of my need for a savior.  

To me this change was measurable and drastic. My worldview shifted. I also began to see that more movement was required. It was there in those 40 days that I got it; I got the fact that by going to the Mother of God, through the vehicle of the rosary, I began to know her Son.

For years I visited my rosary-praying grandmother in the nursing home. One visit a lanky young black girl from the local church was exiting the front door. In her white beret, lustrous black hair and pearly teeth she was beeming with joy as she let loose a song of praise to her Lord and Savior so sincere it must have come from her toes. I remember saying to myself all those years ago, ” I want that.” Her witness has stayed with me all this time. After my 40 days, I knew I had found “that”.

6:30pm Sunday. Even though only one of the five of us made it to church today, all 5 said prayer requests and all 5 prayed the Glorious Mysteries of the Rosary.

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 8
January 12, 2010 – Leave a Response

The last two days have really surprised me. I am amazed by the level of anxiety I experienced over the preparation and post of Background 1 and 2. I still keep getting this funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. Yet, in the spirit of observation and awareness I have been forging forward, trying to get to the bottom of  this struggle.

As I am writing this, I am concluding that this degree of openness and transparency about my thoughts and beliefs is definitely uncharted territory, especially in a public forum. In addition, the debut of my spiritual perspective has required more gumption and hutzpa than I am naturally inclined. It felt like I was performing surgery to get the words out. It was as if the beliefs behind the words had been held prisoner for so long that when somebody finally unlocked and opened the door to the slammer, the prisoner just wanted to keep on living the same familiar life and never poke his head out. That is how it was with those words, they just didn’t want to take the chance and come out. That must be the pit in the stomach.

As for the keeper of the key, I think it was 1/1/10 when the door was unlocked. I remember the morning perfectly. For several days I had been preoccupied with wanting people to try the experiment. I had all kinds of imaginations about how to get the word out, even a billboard. That morning with eyes closed, questioning the Lord, I put all my thoughts and ideas on the table. One thing I do know for sure about myself is that I am not a big idea person. I can go weeks and months, even years without having a single spontaneous, creative impulse. My analytical, sequential side rules the roost. So when I do have a flash of inspiration, something that seems to land out of nowhere on my runway, I pay attention, and I present it in prayer.

I kept saying “What do you want me to do with this experiment?” Then as if the plane’s flight recorder was ejected and sunk  right into my lap, it hit me, “The experiment is meant for you and your family. YOU are supposed to do this for forty days. ” As I began my litany of objections another package sucker punched me and said, “AND WRITE IT DOWN.” “Write it down I pondered.”

What happened next requires a little background information (just a little, really.) Over the years I have grown found of several saints. As I learn about them I walk away with some special skill or quality about them. This is where it gets a little wacky. In my meditative time, I talk with them and present different scenarios and purposely imagine what they would answer. I call it my round table. (Right now there are nine standing participants, and two angels.)Sometimes if I am pondering a real doozie I invite the whole crew and imagine the brainstorming session that would ensue. With this background, you can appreciate that on the morning of 1/1 all seats were taken at the table. As I was pondering the sucker punch that just presented the ”write it down” idea, my mind went immediately and freely to the seat across the table. It was St. Faustina Kowalska, and in my imagination she was reaching out her left arm ( which was my right side). “Hmm” I thought. So I opened my eyes and reached out my right arm into my basket of books that I use “to sharpen the saw” as Steven Covey recommends. Not knowing what lies where ( my prayer chair is encircled with inspirational stacks) I was pleased to see St. Faustina’s 699 page Diary in the basket. As I am fond of doing, especially with the Bible, I randomly stuck my finger in her diary. Here is what lied beneath my pointer finger, the first sentence on page 570 Write down everything that occurs to you regarding my goodness.” If that wasn’t enough to get my attention, in the book it was in bold print!

“Now the movie makes sense!” I said to myself. A few days earlier I did something I have never done before. I put the kids to bed early, crawled in bed with my dvd player and watched a movie all by myself. I watched the movie, “Julie and Julia” with a level of attentiveness and intrigue that had me perplexed. Afterwards, the movie was on my mind every day. The premise is that Julie cooks all 500 recipes of the Julia Child’s Joy of Cooking cookbook in 365 days. Julie also does one more thing, she writes down her experience in a blog.

You don’t have to hit me over the head twice. I have learned that you don’t mess around with inspiration. If it is at all possible, do it. So there you have it. Miss Faustina and perhaps a few others are keeper of the key, and I am doing my best to report on the “goodness,” with or without a stomach ache.

7:oopm: All said prayer requests, all participated and prayed the Joyful Mysteries.

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 9
January 13, 2010 – Leave a Response

I am no massacist; I take every step possible to minimize pain and chaos, especially when it comes to the children’s morning routine. The evening before a school day backpacks get loaded, lunches are packed, water bottles are located and uniforms are layed out. Steps all taken to promote morningtime calm and order. As I examine this ritual more closely, it must be more a post traumatic  stress reaction than an anal retentive one. Countless times (literally, I have lost track) I have been burned in the school parking lot. “Uhhhh….maaaaa….We have to go back home. I don’t have any shoes.” “Shooooooes?!!!!!”I bellow.

This morning further solidified my evening compulsion to prepare. Like a scene from Larry, Curley and Moe, my little stooges gathered at the breakfast counter in a state of oblivion. There before my very eyes is a trifecta of uniform breaches. I stand, point to each one individually and state: “No belt.No belt. Wrong shirt…. Come on. We have been doing this for FIVE years. Lord help me!”

The 15 minutes allocated for eating got sucked into the recovery mission, replete with “No, that’s myyyyy belt.” As smoothies were poured into “to go” cups instead of breakfast on a plate, Dad arrives in the room to size up the damage; he makes an immediate about-face towards the exit and stops abruptly. He then turns, raises his right arm high and states a phrase never before heard by him in our home, “Peace be with you.” That was an eye-popping show stopper alright.  (This was a proclamation we  have heard from dad about once a month at church but never before at home. )

“Peace be with you.” Now that’s an interesting intention. One I had just recently contemplated with my father. He and I had a first-time experience over the holiday: Just the two of us went to church together. After the service dad said, “I think a lot of people in the world must not have any peace.” He explained that for a long time he wondered why we say “Peace be with you” to our neighbors during mass. Then he theorized, “ The priests hear so many confessions that I think that they realized a long time ago that nobody really has any peace. The priests figured it was such a big problem that we all just need to go ahead and wish each other peace.”

Makes sense to me. Afterall, one of the reasons Jesus came was to give us a “peace that passes all understanding.” Hope we can sprinkle some more of that around the kitchen tomorrow morning.

7:00pm: All said prayer requests. All prayed the Sorrowful Mysteries.

Day 10
January 14, 2010 – Leave a Response

No feeling so well today.

8pm: All said prayer requests, and I have to admit some of them sounded a bit like going to see Santa Clause. I know God is in the details of our lives, but I think there needs to be a bit of thoughtful reverence as we approach the Lord. The quote of the night was, “You are talking to the creator of the heaven and the earth, and your prayer request is that little Sammy gets to sleep in your room this weekend when our house guests come, and this is probably already the plan? Can you look a little deeper in your heart?”

This clearly did not set a good tone. We battled fighting over blankets, kicking on the sofa, and lack of participation throughout the Glorious Mysteries.

Day 11
January 15, 2010 – Leave a Response

4:00pm The children and I prayed the Luminous Mysteries with only two episodes of kicking and one wiggly child saying and doing a version of what is now dubbed as “prayer aerobics.” I didn’t want to set the babysitter completely over the deep edge and ask her to tend to the children, the homework, dinner and the rosary; so we completed our prayers prior to mom going to the fundraising benefit for the pregnancy center.

On my way to the dinner, as I was anticipating my dashing husband’s arrival, I pondered his commitment to the experiment and the possibility of his solo participation later this evening. I was secretly wishing I could give him the Association of the Marin Helpers brochure and encourage him to pray while reclined with eyes closed, silently contemplating each luminous event of Jesus’s life. I am no expert on this, but once one gets into a semi-meditative state and brain waves change from alpha to beta, something mystical starts to take place. The mind begins to get the feeling of “being in the world but not of it”. A new state of awareness and presence starts to surface. I will even go as far as to say that our perception of reality starts to shift. It is through a process similar to this that I came to agree with Gary Zukav in Seat of the Soul; we are indeed spiritual beings who happen to be here on earth having a human experience, as opposed to human beings who happen to have an occasional spiritual experience.

9:45pm As I walked in the door of our home hopeful to present this method to my husband, (we drove in separate cars) I could hear a sound coming from the next room. It was Dustin’s I-Phone app finishing up Thursday’s prayers. Instead of silent recollection while reclining, he experienced prayer while driving a-la telephone.

Even though he was by no means reaching a new meditative plateau,  my observance of his devotion to me and my desires and his commitment to the experiment instead shook my reality and took me to a higher place –  in my attraction to him.

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 12
January 16, 2010 – Leave a Response

5:00pm Dad walked in the door from work, mom shoved the special potatoes in the oven, the oldest started the grill. “Quick , hurry, grab your beads, they are only 18 miles away!” dad announced to all. Our special friends from across the state were about to arrive; we scurried to pray so we could enjoy this family of four without the interruption of our experiment. The “Our Fathers” and “Hail Mary’s” echoed through the house to an accelerated beat and prayer requests included that our friends have a wonderful weekend at our home. The sibling squabbles during prayer even happened with lightning velocity – a few quick jabs on the sofa and some darting eyes and our family achieved our goal, prayer of the Sorrowful Mysteries (said with as much sincerity as possible.) Amen.

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 13
January 17, 2010 – Leave a Response

This afternoon I received a phone call from a friend in my inner circle. She had exciting news, a possible bid on a home right in our very neighborhood. Ecstatic, I let her know that we would indeed be praying for this one. With that she added, as for the experiment ”this is clearly a testimony to anyone who thinks something is not possible.Who would have ever thought this could happen in your house?”

7:00pm Our family gathered around the sofa and our overnight visitors recollected themselves in their guest room. Our curious friends inquired earlier about the experiment and as to how the rosary works. We explained that there is one “Our Father” followed by 10 “Hail Mary’s.” This happens five times, thus five decades. Some other stuff is in there too, but that’s the gist of the beads.

This evening, to each decade, we contemplated Jesus’s early years during the Joyful Mysteries. I am starting to see a pattern; after about twenty beads, the between-prayer squabbles and jabs dissipate – for us I guess Jesus’s name needs to be proclaimed about 20-25 times before the Spirit starts to soak in.

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 14
January 18, 2010 – Leave a Response

On this Sunday, eve of MLK holiday, activities around the house seemed to build momentum at an unsurpassable rate. Not much stood still (except for me at regular intervals). The culmination of which was a special father-daughter dinner dance,  a celebratory horse-riding banquet.(It was going to be mother-daughter in blue dresses, but I convinced my darling that a dancing , eating father with a blue tie would be much more joyful than a  blue wallflower mom with a doggie bag.)In addition to the banquet, there was also a big kid birthday party which necessitated our oldest to pray his beads alone later in the evening.

9:40pm Exhausted, 4 of us plunked in and around mom and dad’s bed  and began our remembrance of the Glorious Mysteries. All said prayer requests and between the contagious yawns all said the 65 or so prayers of the rosary.

The next morning my oldest reported that he said his prayers upon rising as opposed to upon slumbering. I was curious as to how the change in process affected him. “So, how was it for you praying silently alone versus verbally in a group?” After a blank look, I said, “How about if I make it multiple choice:

A. You liked the calm of praying alone B. You prefer praying out loud with the family.”C.You liked it better on your own because you could concentrate more.D. You’re conning me and didn’t really do it.”

Colin went on to say that he chose the second one because his mind wandered less, and he focused better with the group. I found this comment  particularly interesting because an argument against the rosary is its repetitive nature, something like, What’s so godly about repeating a bunch of words, kindof argument. What I have surmised after my many years of this practice is that the rosary leads us deeper into the mysteries of Jesus’s life  primarily because of the repetition. The prayers drone out many of the distractions of our mind. Couple this mental blockade, so to speak, with the contemplation of the  events of Jesus’s life,  and we are taken deeper into our interiors where we can come closer to the Christ within us. I think the Blessed Mother gave us this gift knowing full well the predisposition of our wandering minds. Thus Colin felt more focused and involved when praying verbally. For me, however, praying with the family verbally has watered things down. Because my mind has already been trained to focus through years of meditation, silent contemplation of the prayers and mysteries is a much richer experience. Then again, if I was praying verbally without being surrounded by cave and tent building, prayer aerobics,  blanket moderation, and the “taking turns” police, maybe vocal prayer would have more appeal.

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 15
January 19, 2010 – Leave a Response

After a reasonable amount of rest for a non-school day, the scramble began.  Each family member needed to pack a three-day suitcase; each one of us was heading in a separate direction for Day 16, 17 and 18.  Unfortunately, I was the ring leader of the circus.  After months of progressing symptoms, I was headed for a good “looking at” by the renowned Cleveland Clinic in Ohio.

Over the last 90 days unexplained muscle and joint pain piggy backed on food sensitivities that were speeding out of control. This acceleration left the “safe food” list at 5-10 foods.  I learned the hard way that deviating off the list is not an option. The slip of a chicken breast produced a crash-like hangover the likes of which even my college days had not seen.

With that said, the day was spent immersed in details. Thank heavens for the laundry fairy/prayer warrior next door; otherwise, my broken dryer may have caused a uniform breach the likes of which have never been recorded at our school.

5pm: With the finesse and timing of a trapeze artist the packing and schedule was confirmed; while dad was on business across the state and mom was up north, two children would spend the night with our dear friends, aka aunt and uncle, and one would be in the tender home of a precious classmate. Night 2: all three are with grandparents.

Just when I thought the before-school planning ritual could not get any more complicated, the prepatory hallway was about to burst: backpacks, lunchbox, shoes, Night 1 stuff, Night 2 stuff, and so on. Then came a line of double checking that had heretofore never crossed my lips, “Do you have your toothbrush and your rosary beads?”

With the possibility of follow through weak at best, I talked through possible prayer saying scenarios with each family member.  The big kids thought aunt and uncle  would not only be open to the experiment, but they might even join in – that was my thought too. My youngest asked me if his classmate might like to say the rosary with him. After a pause of surprise, I answered a giant smiling, “May-be?”

My better half thought his plane ride would be a perfect, distractionless time to say his prayers. To this I smiled even bigger. Here was my vision: 6′3” guy fingering man-sized beads (built by his aunt) as they spilled off his lap, into the center aisle of the cabin, crucifix dangling for all to see. Part of my grin was a recurrent thought of mine: I have said to myself a million times, “This guy is such a big personality, if he ever gives his heart to the Lord, look out! He will be a force to be reckoned with.”

As for night #2, that scene is anyone’s guess. Years ago I was pulled aside, with all the  sincerity in the world and asked, “For being such a smart girl, how could you fall for all of this?” (This being faith and devotion to God.) My atheistic in-laws were worried that maybe I was cognitively fragile and, in the spirit of good mental health, perhaps an intervention was required.

Rosary, at their house? This might fly (literally) if grandpa is up to his usual form. I can see it now; as my kids ponder the mystery of the rosary called “The descent of the Holy Spirit,” from the next room, grandpa will magically lower the plastic angels he has hidden behind the paddles on the ceiling fan, while simultaneously the choir music sings “Alleluia” on his dvd player.

Night 2: Good luck my little warriors.

7:00pm: 4 of us said prayer requests and together we prayed the Joyful Mysteries. Dad was reportedly praying his after the business dinner.

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 16
January 20, 2010 – Leave a Response

As I was rolling my suitcase to the front door, I stopped abruptly and made a dash out to the back lanai. “Oh, I have thought about you every day,”I said to the gentleman who was tending to our swimming pool. “Is your family okay?” I questioned this Haitian transplant.  With pensive eyes he told me that his immediate family lives in Miami, but with a pause he added ” We lost my aunt, uncle and their children. My other uncle just left Port-au-Prince a few days before the earthquake, and he is okay.  I guess I am not that sad though; it’s a part of life – we’re here and then we’re not.”

This truly gentle chlorine-toting man then went on to share his biggest worry. In 2000, he explained, “the President of Haiti sold our Liberty Statue to France; it was made of copper. He got a million dollars for it, and then he disappeared in the Bahamas.” He then told me that he witnessed people donating money to Haiti after hurricanes, and the government did not put it to good use. “They are all kooks,” he said. “Kooks?” I asked.  The fact that he had seen the government leaders act as crooks not kooks was momentarily lost in translation. “I wish my voice could be heard,” he said. “I want to tell someone, but I don’t have a computer or internet, and I don’t know how to tell the news. This money needs to stay in the hands of the United States. They need to go to Haiti, gather the people around and say,’okay, together we are going to build a hospital.’ Use the money for bricks and cement and supplies. Use the money to pay the people of Haiti $8 or $9 an hour, and then go on to the next project.” He went on to state that the old President is resurfacing from the Bahamas making a claim of “My people need me.” Mr. Gentle feared the crook was coming to take the money again, and he wanted the US to help insure this would not happen again.

It was at this juncture that the line of questioning turned to me. I indicated that I was on my way to Ohio to see some good doctors. After further prompting, I shared that I was not usually this skinny; I explained that when I eat, it makes me feel sick. ‘Oh, you do not enjoy the food.” he said. He explained that his father is a preacher.  “We believe when the spirit gets bigger and bigger then the body gets better. It is the spirit that heals the body. When Jesus healed the blind man he said “Your sins have been forgiven” and then the man was cured of his blindness. Jesus didn’t have to say ‘your sins are forgiven,’ but He did. There is sin, and when the body gets rid of sin, it is healed. It doesn’t have to be that you are sinning; there is still sin in the body. See, the Spirit has to get bigger and (then) you will enjoy the food,” said Mr. Gentle.

As I gathered my final belongings for the airport I contemplated changing the Health History Form that I had prepared for the doctor; Presenting Problem: In need of Spirit enlargement.

12:00pm I said my rosary in my head as I walked though a never ending maze of airport security.

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 17
January 21, 2010 – Leave a Response

Thank God I followed this morning’s intuition and kept my mental and emotional seatbelt buckled today –  from sun-up until sun-down.

Friends and family wondered aloud if I was excited to see this doctor in Ohio. Unfortunately, my emotions were far from excited. My reliability checklist was indeed short a few tallies: the last GI doctor I saw for stomach pain wanted to take out my gall bladder when the problem was a gluten intolerance; once I suffered 12 months  of sinus pain and the specialist swore by sinus surgery when the cure was a C3 chiropractic adjustment. This history being just the tip of the iceberg, my emotions were at best cautious and at worst skeptical.

Let’s hear it for cautious! Minutes into the appointment the doctor surmised that I was a perfectionist, paying too close attention to my symptoms: “If you pay too close attention to your heart, you can start to think something is wrong with your heart; it skips a beat and you get all worried.” In addition to this thorough piece of assessment, I was told to think more positive thoughts. (She was clearly unaware that she was speaking with Susy Sunshine of the affirmation world.) Doc then went on to explore the possibility of depression as the cause of my physical malady.

After leaving the appointment with marching orders to “just eat” and see a muscle doctor for my other pains, I crashed on the guest bed feeling alone and misunderstood, clouded over with a fog of negativity. I fell sound asleep from the exhaustion.  Upon awakening, I layed there and prayed the rosary; then I performed a mental exercise that I read about one day when I randomly plucked a book from Borders’  bookshelf. At the time, a haphazard sticking of the finger pointed to the following invocation: “Close your eyes and ask St. Michael and St. Raphael (the Archangels, aka the big guns) to come and surround you.” St. Michael, the protector/ terminator of fear, and St. Raphael the healer reportedly make an unbeatable team. As instructed, I asked them to vacuum out of me all that is not of God. (I allotted time for the extraction process.) Then I imagined the keeper of the sword, the giver of courage, cutting any earthly chords and ties, in attempt to be renewed, to be “in the world but not of it.”

After this fog-lifting process, I had enough vigor to stick my finger in my travel bible. It opened to Job. What a message: pain, more pain, freedom from pain, restoration beyond wildest dreams. I surmised that I was still on the front end of this time line.

5pm:Surprise phone call: the specialist from this morning was on the phone! The doctor reported that she had reconsidered things and changed the course of action: no muscle doctor, instead scopes, biopsies and MRI.

In response, I recollected myself and settled into a comfortable mental resting place, an affirmation that had cushioned me for years; “No situation moves me.” This is actually short for “I am an unshakable rock; no high or low moves me.”

Next phone call: Dad’s business plans were changed. He was home. The youngest was home sick and the other two just came home with really bad grades.

“No situation moves me.”

8:00pm Like I had done hundreds of times as a youngster, I got together with my BFF. Even though she had moved around the country and my parents relocated a few times, just like old days, Tia lived just a few blocks from my family. During grades 4-12, countless times I slept in my twin bed while Tina slept in “her” twin bed in my lime green bedroom. We would stay up to wee hours contemplating every aspect of life. Tonight she and I examined the irony; here we were in her bedroom sitting room, me with feet curled into one club chair and she, tea in hand, on the other chair; we were contemplating every aspect of death. Her husband was downstairs in the family room in his hospice bed. He had been there for over a week: sleeping, sipping, smiling, squeezing, talking, tasting, staring, hoping, dying.

What a precious 90minutes we had together. With the help of each other we found the words to describe what it felt like to be lifted, almost floating, being carried by God through each step of this journey. We contemplated being called to serve another to such a profound degree that not only the cup of the soul was completely poured out but even the core of one’s own marrow was doled out, giving and loving with every last drop. There were no tears, no words left unsaid, just another step in a very long chapter.

Suddenly, things changed. Mack was there, standing, having climbed steps he hadn’t trodden in over a week. It was meant to be, another night beside his beloved in their bed, together. We tucked him in. I kissed him good night and good-bye for my last time. I whispered to Tina, “I think it’s time. Do you have the box?” “Yes” she hushed. I explained that inside the parcel package of spirituality sent months ago from Florida was the Divine Mercy Chaplet holy card. (The prayers were on the back.) My best friend forever, despite being more Christian than Catholic, was going  to pray the chaplet and so was I. “I think we should make sure that we do it every night,” I said.

Not so long ago, Jesus appeared to St. Faustina. He wanted all people to trust in his mercy. Jesus cried out to St. Faustine, imploring her to spread his message to the world: Even those who have committed the unthinkable, if they come to Me, I will forgive them. I will have mercy on them. Trust in Me. With that he asked us to pray the following on rosary beads:

“For the sake of his sorrowful passion, have mercy on us and on the whole world.”

These words said to God the Father about God the Son will open the floodgates of mercy for even the most hardened heart.

When I left my BFF, she was at peace. She held on to her belief that God would hear her pleas, and the pleas of all the angels who cooked food, sent cards, said prayers, left unexpected packages, texted words of encouragement: the plea to God for mercy on her unbelieving husband.

 
Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 18
January 22, 2010 – Leave a Response

Home Sweet Home: Even the foul odor of  rotting mish mosh in the disposal and land mines of crumpled uniforms and pungent sweat socks didn’t dissuade me from the bliss of being home. Learning of the unauthorized purchase of electronics for our child did, however,  momentarily jar me. It even caused a flashback to a prior unauthorized extravaganza. One that led me to pummel the purchaser into a tree with my mini van.( He jumped on the racing board while hanging on to the luggage rack. I just tried to bump him off  the exterior of vehicle by skimming by the tree, I didn’t mean to pin him there.)Fortunately I have advanced on my journey of enlightenment. This time I mentally froze: “No situation moves me.”

7pm: The official tally was in: Day 16 – first contamination of the experiment. One of the children did not pray the rosary. Evidently the excitement of a sleep over on a school night one-upped God Almighty. My youngest proudly showed me how he prayed “Hail Mary full of grace the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus.” He said this along with the Our Fathers. He was so proud, I couldn’t break it to him that he left off the second half: “Holy Mary mother of God, pray for us sinners, now, and at the hour of our death. Amen.” As for the remaining two, they received high marks.

Day 17: Dad gathered the flock. All said requests and prayers.

7:30pm: It felt like everyone was glad to be together. All said prayer requests and all recalled the  baptism of Jesus in the Jordan, Jesus turning water into wine at the request of his Mother, Jesus proclaiming the good news, the Transfiguration of Jesus and the recollection of the real presence of Jesus – body, blood, soul and divinity.These Luminous Mysteries were said with a little less fighting than usual.

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 19
January 23, 2010 – One Response

9:00pm All five of us gathered, said prayer requests, and recalled the Sorrowful Mysteries of Jesus’s life. Like clockwork, when I went into detail (not grotesque detail)  about the scourging, the crowning, and the torture of the cross, one child became predictably belligerent, yelling “Stop.” I explained that it is okay to think about what Jesus went through for us; letting ourselves think about it helps to soften us. Crazy as it sounds, I explained that “remembering  Jesus’s pain and sadness helps us to be nicer. It is especially helpful when we feel like being mean to others. Touching our hand and remembering Jesus’s sacrifice can keep us from saying or doing hurtful things to another. We can say to ourselves, “Look at what Jesus did for me, so I could be saved. Why would I want to do something that would hurt someone else  and make Jesus feel more sadness and pain?” “

I don’t think they bought it – that remembering his sorrows is a good thing. Come Holy Spirit Come!

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 20
January 24, 2010 – Leave a Response

Wow, it’s Day 20, officially half way through the experiment! My most surprising moment thus far still involves the fact that my husband agreed to this shenanigan in the first place. His initial, “yes” was monumentally huge. His continued loyalty to the experiment is equally as grand. My entrepreneurial, creative husband has many strengths that take him in several directions; this is true to such an extent that the only thing consistent about him is his unpredictability. He didn’t earn the nickname Wildman for behaving like a steady Eddie. With that said, the fact that he has taken a leadership role and consistently been available each day for the last 20 days to pray the rosary is indeed earthshatteringly ground breaking.

This “yes” along with the reliability factor stand out to me as most significant. One other factor seems noteworthy even though it is a little vague at this juncture. I have a sense that things are brewing, that a spiritual breeze is indeed blowing through our home. Here is one example: My husband and I are watching the devastation of Haiti on the news. A woman is jubilant, a family member was found alive in the rubble many days after the earthquake. When asked her thoughts on the rescue, she announced to the newscaster, “It was God.” This sent my husband in a frenzy. “There it goes again. Everything that happens that’s good is God and everything that’s bad is not.” (My husband frequently questions God’s justice and why bad things happen to good people.)

Yesterday, a letter arrives at our home addressed to my husband from a neighbor unknown to us. The letter is from a Jehovah’s witness who wants to share with my husband a matter about God. The letter and bible brochure proceed to explain that God allows us to have free will.  As a result of sin in the world this free will has caused great chaos and calamity. In response God will one day reportedly cut the wicked off from the earth. (Proverbs 2:21, 22). I noticed the letter crumbled in trash. Regardless, I sense something is brewing.

6pm: All said prayer requests, all said Glorious Mysteries.

Day 21
January 26, 2010 – Leave a Response

“Build it and they will come.”   This is the movie line I had in mind when we renovated our over-the-garage space into an in-law suite. Happily, the affirmation worked. My snow bird parents have officially flown their frozen coop and are here thawing out and catching up!

When my realtor mom learned that her daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren have a unanimous daily prayer request, she sped into professional action. She doled out pearls of wisdom and strategy to our friends whom we want so desperately to seize the lake house around the corner and make the most of this short sale  – fast, but it wasn’t long before things took a turn for the worse with a new piece of the puzzle. My friends need to sell their home before they can give the bank an offer free from contingencies, and there is a nearly identical house next door to my friends, (minus the pool) for sale $50,000 under market value due to another short sale situation. This could really be a drag. Strategy in hand, Miss Realtor held nothing back; she pulled out all the stops; she gave her most time-tested, sage piece of advice: “Plant a statue of St. Joseph upside down in your front yard. He will help you sell your house. It works! I sold one of my own houses that way. Oh yeah, make sure his face is pointing towards the street!”

2:55pm Due to some busyness we needed to pray early today, so dad yells full blast to the children in the yard ” 5 MINUTE WARNING. WE ARE PRAYING THE ROSARY IN 5 MINUTES!!!” Now mind you, the neighbors are certainly accustomed to a bit  of volume proliferating from our vicinity, that surely was no surprise…but a sense of urgency over prayer time, I am amazed the shock didn’t necessitate paramedics racing to our deadend lane.

3:00pm: All said prayer requests ( with special homage to St. Joseph) all prayed the Glorious Mysteries.

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 22
January 26, 2010 – Leave a Response

8:00pmToday I carried with me a sense of anticipation. Yet this emotion didn’t really hit me until we all gathered: I was excited for my parents to witness the seemingly impossible – the assembly of the 5 of  us, together in prayer for about 20 minutes. What I also didn’t realize is that our vigil would evoke a quality less than inspirational and more of comedic relief.

As we journeyed through the Joyful Mysteries of Jesus’s younger days, my youngest had his turn to lead the prayer of  one Our Father and 10 Hail Mary’s. In his most solemn sweet voice he proclaims, “Our Father who farts in heaven.” Needless to say, this gastrointestinal interruption took its toll on our spiritual serenity and apparently also took its toll physically: one child spent so long in the powder bath that it eventually became his turn to pray, to which he bellows from behind closed-door perched toilet-top  “Our Father.” I let out a horrified “Nooooo” as I scramble to salvage one last drop of dignity during this final Mystery, recalling the finding of the child Jesus in the temple.

“No more excitement,” I told myself. “Proceed in the march, detach from the outcome.” I should know this by now.  I thanked God for the reminder.

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 23
January 27, 2010 – Leave a Response

It is very difficult for me to update today’s post.  I keep avoiding it. My heart is so heavy.

6:50pm Phone rings. It’s my friend, (the ones my kids call aunt and uncle) Auntie vomits a tidal wave of words at me: Her husband and son just drove by a terrible bicycle accident on a busy road. The boy on the bike and his family are friends of  this “aunt and uncle”. Uncle telephones aunt, aunt telephones boy’s mother to inform mother of accident. Aunt telephones me and asks “Do you know any special prayer I should say for kids in really bad trouble?” I spoke to her panic and made sure she was driving safely to the hospital. I assured her that our family would have only one prayer request tonight when we prayed the rosary, and I let her know “We’ll pray NOW!”

7pm: All said one united prayer – for a miracle. We prayed, appropriately, the Sorrowful Mysteries. As we contemplated Mary’s anguish and horror as she witnessed her son staggering and falling and being tortured, our hearts and stomaches writhed internally as we imagined the nightmare of the parents at the hospital.

7:30pm The voice on the phone said “He didn’t make it.”

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 24
January 28, 2010 – Leave a Response

7:30pm This evening was loaded with discouragement, and dad had enough of it. He saw no sign of his prayer being answered – things might even be getting worse. Each evening dad makes a heartfelt plea for our family to be caring and trusting of one another, for us all to be a better family by being nicer to each other. And every night there is fighting and arguing  during prayers. One can only imagine the torture that occurs outside of this sacred space. “It feels like you are all just going through the motions, just doing the experiment because you have to.Your heart is not in it, ” said dad.

Tonight parents grasped at a new prayer request, “Lord, reach our hearts. Help us. Mold us. Shape us.” Each participant said prayers and recalled the Glorious Mysteries – with varying degrees of earnestness.

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 25
January 28, 2010 – Leave a Response

Today there is more heaviness.Things are challenging with the children. Everything feels very difficult: Getting downstairs for breakfast with some semblance of order, loading peaceably in the car, agreeing on a radio station, feet that kick one another at pickup, refusals to pickup belongings, poor grades,behavior issues, and more.

Despite this, my heart found a new resting place,  a new joy: Tina (from Day 17)texted that a friend came to read God’s word with her husband. He agreed.  The friend recited some verses to him and asked him if he wanted to accept Jesus as his savior. Tina wrote, “There were four of us around his bed. A tear went down his face and he said ‘Yes.’ He wanted to be with Jesus. The presence of God was so powerful… We were all enraptured in His love. Too much to text. Prayer is powerful. I never thought this day would come. I will never doubt His power again.”

Mindful of this power for many years, this afternoon I momentarily lost my breath when my mom asked, “Can I throw this away now?” For days there was a blue sticky note, now with curled edges and smeared ink, on the kitchen counter to the right of the sink. On the note were letters, the secret code,  “C + P.” Like a deer caught in headlights, I cowardly said “Sure.” Then came the quiet voice of Truth: what you have on the inside needs to match what you do on the outside. “Actually” I said, as I retrieved the little blue note from the garbage and reattached it to the counter surface, “I am going to keep it.” Unfortunately, my momentary pride was quickly swept away. The voice spoke again, “Well?” It seemed to me that this business of being transparent was going a bit too far – reveal the code?…after a breath of bravery I pelted out the words, “I am reminding myself that I am Cheerful + Patient.”

In the spirit of Florence and Ben Franklin (Day 7) 10 years ago, I started this practice of what I call reminding myself. At that time, annoyance and disappointment with my husband ranked off the chart. My negativity was palpable, and neither one of us were a joy to be around. That’s when my guiding voice said,( at least that’s what I thought it was back then)  ”You need to love him no matter what you are feeling. You need to show unconditional love, regardless of the circumstance. You need to detach from your need for justice and your fear of being used as a floor mat and just be loving – no matter what. The voice continued, you can do this with friends, coworkers and countless others, now you have to do it with your husband!”

I clearly knew that I had the will to try to make things different but what I soon realized is that I had no tools. It is one thing to know you need to move a gigantic pile of crap out of the way; the task takes on whole new proportions when you realize you have no tractor, no wheelbarrow, no shovel, for God’s sake – not even a spoon. After wallowing in the doo doo and self-pity, I hit some very low moments. I even fell so low that I almost surrendered by making the kiss of death statement, the statement that says “This problem is too big, and I am too stuck;” the statement that leaves people doing one of two things: living a life of mucking around in excrement, just getting by or pulling the plug altogether and jumping ship. Either way there is a surrender; the pile is too big and too unmovable and then we fold, we give in, we say it to ourselves, and we impress it on our conscious and subconscious minds, we plant the seed thought that says  “That’s just the way I am” or if we haven’t really examined ourselves at the core, “That is just the way he/she is.”

This line of thinking is so far from Truth and the Good News, yet it is amazingly easy to fall for the lie. When we face obstacles, it is remarkable how easy it is to forget that all things are possible with God, and we only need faith the size of a mustard seed to move  our mountain of crap.

With that said, I was not about to surrender. I spent the next 12 months on a crusade to assemble my tools and learn how to use them. I gathered inspirational readings, learned meditation, sharpened my power of intention, learned from the saints, opened the bible, delved into sacramentals, journaled, reframed my thinking, spent time in nature, and wished silent blessings. I also realized that my view of the world was anything but rose-colored. For years I truly thought of myself as another Schleprock. For non-Flintstone fans, Schleprock was the guy with chronic bad luck, luck so bad that a gray cloud followed him over his head as he waddled through Bedrock. I experimented with releasing the curse of Schleprock and it paid off quickly. I was on several occasions invited to start a new line and be first instead of last in the grocery store checkout, hands waved me into traffic and money started to flow at the perfect time, in a perfect way. This liberation opened more than real doors and my tools began to make a difference on the home-front.

C+P are part of this toolbox. For years my home was filled with strategically placed sticky notes: steering wheel, coffee pot, day timer, bathroom mirror and frig were the most popular. I was determined to bolster my character with love and peace, and proceed free of judgements by impressing my conscious and subconscious mind with a new seed thought. I would read the notes and repeat them especially when I was tempted (which was almost constantly in the beginning) to believe the “lie”. I read them until they became a part of me. It was kind of like driving to work. Some days I would make the correct turn, even if I was not paying attention to what I was doing, my mind was completely somewhere else. This is because my subconscious mind took over and got me to work. It is the same with these seed thoughts, after a while they take root, sprout and grow – fertilize with prayer and God and lookout – I am suddenly calm in the face of fire.  Also, I would remind myself, if it worked for Ben it would work for me.

There is a saying, “nothing can resist something that is completely unresisting” more simply said, it is hard to fight with someone who is not fighting. I think this unresisting stuff works like a flashlight. As long as party #1 can fight with party #2, the flashlight shines on party #2, regardless of fault. It’s just where the light goes.  Once party 2 becomes an “unshakable rock of love”, unmoveable so to speak, there is nowhere for the light to shine except back at party #1. This is when mountains really start to move. This is how mountains moved at my house. (Being unshakable never means staying in a relationship that is abusive: annoying, seemingly untolerable, lonely -yes,  abusive – no)

So now when I am feeling tired and lousy and expect that everyone else should take their designated role in my mental movie and act how I have scripted them, I am reminded to go back to basics. Rejoice in the Lord always and persevere.  And when this biblical truth starts to feel like a pile of crap to me, I break out my latest charcter building sticky note and remind myself that I am Cheerful and Patient; I am trusting and confident that the Lord will grow it just right.

7:30pm As I continue to have to correct, draw boundaries on the couch – “feet don’t cross this line”  and circumvent blanket tug-o-wars, the Luminous Mysteries seem to lose some of their luster, but then I get a wave of refreshment as I remind myself of the Power that gives faith at the perfect time  and the Power that moves mountians.  Praise be to God!

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 26
January 30, 2010 – Leave a Response

More mountain moving today – my tools feel as powerful as a spoon.

8:30 pm All said prayer requests, all said Glorious Mysteries.

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 27
January 31, 2010 – Leave a Response

Dad must have sensed it too, the mountain is getting bigger instead of smaller. He implored the family to soften their hearts. We explored the possible reasons for the troubles, no one took a nibble. The ears felt deaf.

8:00pm Prayers said by all.

I increase my devotions even though things feel empty. I recall from The Imitation of Christ, by Thomas Kempis:

To God it (love) is thankful and devout, ever trusting and hoping in him, even when it does not sense God’s presence, for no one lives in love without some sorrow and pain.

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 28
February 1, 2010 – Leave a Response

It’s official. I have formally decided that if I could only have one book in my possession other than the bible it would be The Imitation of Christ by Thomas Kempis. Written in the 1400’s this pre-reformation classic is beloved by all – even Moody Press has an edition in print and despite its medieval underpinnings, I have yet to find writings more relevant to today’s struggles. Several times a week a gem of wisdom so profound leaps off the page that it hangs in my awareness for the entire day. Today is no different as I read, “Whatever you give besides yourself I do not regard, for I seek not your gift, but you” says the voice of the beloved.

This notion of giving one’s self completely to the Lord is very profound to me and  is the crux of both my struggle and my devotion. Forgive me if I go a little deeper today. Sometimes this helps me when I am in the mountain-moving mode.

First the struggle, in my mind there is a connection between dying to one’s self and knowing and doing God’s will.The more we are emptied of our “self” the more we can fill up on God; the more filled up we are with him, the more we can manifest his power and will. This dynamic feeds what I call my Lewis and Clark struggle.

To make a very long early American story short, Lewis and Clark endured extraordinary struggles to accomplish their mission of exploring the Louisiana territory to find a needed water route. I have no doubt that their mission was filled with loads of determination, good will and prayer. These men braved mental, emotional, physical and spiritual challenges in order to achieve their final goal –  to advance the westward expansion of the United States. I imagine the fortitude it must have taken these men to brave the elements and forge the alliances and emotional bonds that were required in order for them to proceed with their march.

It is with this introspection that I feel the pain of Lewis after he makes the unimaginable journey out west and back and then reports to the government. For the next step of the journey meant that the US proceeds with its expansion to the detriment of all those who helped Lewis and Clark; it meant the destruction of his alliances and friends, the indians. With this, Lewis’s grief and regret was so profound that he allegedly took his own life.

 The accomplishment of Lewis’s goal, one that he sought after with dogged determination, brought about something very bad instead of very good. It is this anxt that I bring into many of my mission efforts at home and abroad. (Will my contributions overseas bring about an advancement that likens to or culture?What if the outcome is   materialism and superficiality?) How do I know that I am doing God’s will? How do I know that my goal is free of self-interest and that I am seeking to bring glory to God and that my efforts are not a deception from the dark side or worse yet – tinged with self-pride or ego? How do I know that I am a harbinger of good? How do I know that I am following the Apostle Paul’s admonishment to “die to self?”

After a few years of “knocking” on this subject, a couple doors have cracked opened. For me, one answer is to read and reread the anonymous poem that I have taped to my bathroom wall and ask the holy spirit to help me respond accordingly:

When you are forgotten, neglected, or purposely set at naught, and you don’t sting or hurt with the oversight, but your heart is happy being counted worthy to suffer for Christ;

That is dying to self.

When your good is evil spoken of, when your wishes are crossed, your advice disregarded, your opinion ridiculed, and you refuse to let anger rise in your heart or even defend yourself, but take it all in patient, loving silence;

      That is dying to self.

When you lovingly and patiently bear any disorder, any irregularity, any annoyance; when you can stand face to face with waste, folly, extravagance, spiritual insensibility, and endure it as Jesus did;

      That is dying to self.

When you are content with any food, and offering, any raiment, any climate, any society, any solitude, any interruption by the will of God;

      That is dying to self.

When you never care to refer to yourself in conversation or record your own good works or itch after commendation, when you can truly love to be unknown;

      That is dying to self.

When you can see your brother prosper and have his needs met, and can honestly rejoice with him in spirit and feel no envy, nor question God, while your own needs are far greater and you are in desperate circumstances;

      That is dying to self.

When you can receive correction and reproof from one of less stature than yourself and can humbly submit, inwardly as well as outwardly, finding no rebellion or resentment rising up within your heart;

      That is dying to self.

With this struggle laid bare, it becomes easier to appreciate my search for  peace – one that says I am indeed doing God’s will and not my own. Thus, it is with thanks and praise to God that I reveal door #2. This door reveals a way of life that St. Louis DeMontfort calls short, easy, secure and perfect – a way of life that Jesus himself chose – to be made manifest to the world via the avenue of his mother. By giving birth to Jesus in our hearts powered by the prayers of his mother, we are taking the safest, fastest most secure route to her son – one that promises to protect us  from the snares of evil and from the deception of our own vanities, a route that can give us peace and assurance that we are on the right mission.

7:30pm All gather around dad’s home office floor. Nerve racking computer problems have him with one eye on the Lord and one eye on the need to click the update button. We comply supportively and pray the Glorious Mysteries (with a new roomful of opportunities for mischief.)

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 29
February 2, 2010 – Leave a Response

As things heat up on the work front ( I currently oversee a complicated multi-state tax project for the company that my husband and I own.) I am reminded of a Moody radio broadcast from a few years ago that still rings in my ears entitled: The Important vs. The Urgent – knowing the difference. What sticks with me about the announcement is the following image: pretend your daily life is like an empty jar;  take the important events of the day – each one like a small rock and place them inside your mason jar. Next, like grains of sand, pour into the jar all of the urgent matters that bombard you throughout the day. What you will find is that the sand fills in around the stones and the jar contains both the important and the urgent (unless of course the balance is drastically off).

Here is the kicker: if we fill our daily jar with all of the urgent matters (the sand) and afterwards try to fit the same stones in the jar, we find that there is not enough room for the rocks. The sand is no longer able to squish around the important rocks – instead the sand, the urgent, becomes the mainstay of the jar. Thus, the message: unless we make the rocks a priority and each day make time for what is truly important to us, the urgency of the day will surely crowd out what matters most.

At the time I made a list of what matters most and I realized that what I cherished was being saved for my left over time or maybe not at all. These days I’m either catching the sand encroaching , or I’m holding my breath altogether because the quicksand sucked me in fast.

7:00pm Today’s rock made it in the jar: all  said prayer requests, all recalled Mary’s “yes” to God and the angel, her visitation to Elizabeth, Jesus’s birth, Jesus’s presentation in the temple and the finding of Jesus in the temple.

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 30
February 3, 2010 – Leave a Response

Health limitations are exacerbating. I’m squished in an official holding pattern, too tired to search for a solution and no helpful feedback from the doctors yet – as if that mountain is right on top of me.

6:40pm: All said prayer requests, all prayed the sorrowful mysteries. Half way through, however, I noticed most of the crew had no rosary beads. When I questioned how this could be, pairs of hands rose above their heads. It looked like they were holding up a score for a dive competition- they were all unanimous, each person holding seven fingers high into the air. We were on the seventh bead of the third mystery, and they were doing it on their fingertips – just like mom.

Day 31
February 4, 2010 – Leave a Response

The text came at 8:10am while I was at morning mass, “He passed away early this morning surrounded by love.” (See Day 17)

My immediate reaction was profound gratitude; God gave us the peace and grace of knowing; Tina saw her husband’s sincerity and heard his “yes” to the Lord; we rejoice in knowing our prayers for him were answered.

8:10pm All said prayer requests, mom added special prayers for the local pregnancy center as we regroup after a few fireballs thrown our way. All prayed the Glorious Mysteries, containing a favorite of mine – the Descent of the Holy Spirit. I like to imagine the spirit raining down on all that is of the Lord and making it prosper and multiply and on all that is not of the Lord causing it to wither and melt away.

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day32
February 7, 2010 – Leave a Response

(2/7 – I am finally home. Today I will attempt to Post Day 32, 33, and 34. Hopefully I can read my out-of-town notes.)

After regrouping from the morning scramble – a child home ill (with vomit to prove it) and airline tickets finally purchased correctly (bought and cancelled twice I finally got the details right, return 2/7 not 3/7) I catch my breath and wonder to God as the mountain of challenges seem to loom. To gain perspective I grab The Imitation of Christ; I plop the book open. It reads:

Child do not let yourself be dismayed by the labors that you have undertaken for me, neither let yourself be cast down because of any trying experiences that come to you. But let my promise strengthen  and comfort you in all events.

I am well able to reward you above all measure and degree. Gen15:1

You will not labor long here, nor always be grieved with sorrows.

Wait a little while longer and you will see a speedy end to all your troubles.

There will come an hour when all toil and tumult will cease. Little and brief is all that passes away with time.

Do what you have to do with all your might. Ecc9:10 Labor faithfully in my vineyard. Mat 20:7. I will be your reward.

Write, read, sing, sigh, keep silence, pray; bear crosses courageously; life everlasting is worthy of all these conflicts and even greater things than they.

I say my prayers early today as I rejoice in god’s sovereignty; My mountain is clearly in his hands, what a blessing to believe this from the bottom of my heart.

Tonight’s monthly pregnancy center meeting means the children will pray with dad when he gets home. Wait! I catch myself by surprise. I repeat the sentence slowly to myself….The children are praying with dad tonight. These words just crossed my mental landscape with vibrations of peace and order. One month ago the notion brought a hurricane of chaos and doubt and now – a gentle breeze of peace and order – Amazing.

Another surprise similar to this registered the other night. Once our daily tally reached into the 30’s I became startled. For all the challenges and prayertime aggression, one comment has been glaringly absent. Not Once, by anyone ever have I been asked the question that every parent on a journey has been asked. “Are we almost there yet?” has been noticeably absent from the equation. Unless I am totally missing something, I detect no anticipation, no prisoners lining up to have their ball and chain removed. So much so, I actually bit my tongue and chose not to announce ”10 days to go!”  The salesperson and counselor in me decided, instead, to pace with my clients and follow their lead.

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 33
February 7, 2010 – Leave a Response

Traveling again to Ohio. As I catch my breath before the pre-funeral activities, I am startled by emotions. I notice myself smiling in the airport. Joy is radiating from a place very deep. I recognize instantly that I could be sitting here in the airport flying to console my friend; I could be saying “Well Ti, you never know what happens at that moment of death; I am sure there is a private window of time when the soul faces its maker and in that moment the soul either draws near and says “yes” or turns away. Ti, he may have said “yes” …we have to hang on to that hope.” But no, I am not saying this. Instead my heart overflows with gratitude.

What a tremendous gift God has given us. We were able to witness the “yes”. Her husband could have had his moment privately, yet private or public the outcome would be the same. He would have been counted among God’s chosen people. Instead I can say to Tina, “Your husband’s witness in your house on that bed holding your hand – this was God’s gift to us. God made it clear that our prayer was answered. How truly marvelous, how humbling that the God who created the heavens and the earth reached down to us and gave us this gift.”

Later, I watched Tina greet the line of people who were touched by the life of her husband. The men, women and children came from the school  in which he taught, the teams that he coached, the brotherhood of magicians with whom he bonded and  the family and friends who were in awe of his strength ( he never complained despite the violent form of cancer that took his life). Throughout all of this contact, one thing stood out to me as I sat watching protectively nearby: Tina greeted one and all with a genuine, knowing smile – her joy uncontainable.

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 34
February 8, 2010 – Leave a Response

Ten days ago I received the following email from my husband:

“The weirdest thing just happened to me.  A strange woman came into my office from outside and asked to sit and talk with me for a bit.  We talked for about 5 minutes. Right before she left she looked at me and stated that she felt I was a man who has broad intellectual interests and is accomplished in areas of both the arts and the sciences.  It was weird, and I am not sure what it all meant.”

Earlier that morning I was singing the praises of the Classical Homoeopathist whose remedy was helping my digestive issues calm down. Knowing some of the doctor’s background, I then remarked with a sense of marvel, “He’s a true Renaissance Man.” I had such a dreamy sound in my voice that my husband was alarmed. Not only had the four-wheelin’, truck drivin’, music blarin’, bare footin’ love of my life never heard of this term, he demanded an immediate Webster’s definition.  ”Ha” I chuckled “looks like you’ll have to find this one out for yourself,” Little did I know I would be laughing uncontrollably three hours later when he googled the subject and sent me the exact words stated above.  What my husband lacks in the sciences and arts he more than compensates for in humor and personality; he had me giggling sporadically throughout the day because of his antics.

It is with this definition that I attempt to tell about one of the most remarkable days of my life. So many pieces of the puzzle fused together in 12 short hours that I shudder at the attempt to make the words come as alive as the moments. Here is my try at sharing the two testimonies that made their debut to me during the last few hours.

1:30pm:  Center stage at the funeral for Mack were Teresa his sister, two step children, the Principal where Mack taught school and the spirit-filled pastor. The tone was set with a video presentation of photos: Mack the child, the horned rimmed schoolager/geek, the self taught magician, the military man, the showman and cruise ship entertainer, the coach, graduation day for this adult learner, the dad to which there was no “step” of separation from his children and  of course, the husband.

Pastor Colledge opened the ceremony remarking that this word does not apply to many people but for Mack it was a fit, he was indeed a Renaissance Man and through gladness and sorrow we were about to learn more about this special soul. First Teresa tearfully and bravely took the stage. She told the story the pictures did not tell; Mack was left as a youngster to find his own path as he suffered abuse and ridicule in the home. Activities outside the home were not permitted, including the sport he adored but never officially played- baseball. Despite tremendous obstacles, Mack persevered; outlets were diligence at school, learning magic tricks in his room, and listening to ”the greatest band of all time – Kiss.” Teresa admired how her brother forged a path for himself despite being dealt cards heavily stacked against him.

He also forged ahead in the area of relationships, evidenced as his no-step daughter read her poem of memories – sweet Amanda captivated us all. She read sentence after sentence about the little moments: the early morning pancakes,  the time you were shuffles the Clown at my school, the lunches you packed, our trip across country when we moved – line after line Sarah revealed a father who poured every ounce of his daily being into giving and loving with all he had. Even more notable was Amanda’s on stage persona; her poise, grace and finesse were clearly fruits of a plant that had been fertilized with love and attention from every angle. Her 11 year old brother displayed the same special pruning as he proclaimed boldly: ” I am here before you with no prepared speech. I am here as someone with a great deal of passion. I am here to honor an amazing man.” This boy in that moment was as regal as the grandest of king’s, his stage presence alone gave tribute and homage to the man he adored.

Next the principal offered her heart felt experience of Mack. She stated that as a principal you never really know how good of a job a teacher is doing inside of the classroom, but for her, the facebook comments over the last few weeks gave her concrete evidence; this teacher truly worked his magic with his class full of  inner city youth. For over four and one half months he captured the hearts and minds of his students and because of selfless giving of time and talents he was deeply embedded into the school culture in record time. This school leader beamed as she spoke of Mack, her instinct to trust was confirmed; her executive decision to hire Mack at this faith based school, despite his inability to make a statement of belief in Jesus Christ, was confirmed. This man’s life journey melted hearts and opened minds; Mack had been walking in the Light and didn’t even know it.

It is difficult to capture the momentum of this funeral service – each speaker was unknowingly delivering a logical chapter in a life story which had never before been told: Mack’s testimony was unfolding before our very eyes and ears. The pastor added the next element, an allusion to an unlikely reference, 1Samuel, chapter 18. Here he describes how the son of a king, Jonathon, lays down his royal robe, tunic, even his sword and belt , all he has. Jonathon gave all of himself with perfect abandon. Pastor felt  Mack too “laid it all down”  for the people in his life.

Next, in a moment that was anything but prepared, clearly enraptured in the now, the pastor astutely summarized the progression of speakers and added the final chapter: the moment when the veil of unknowing was lifted for Mack; the moment Mack saw the light of love clearly, the love that had been poured on him from every angle. More importantly, he saw the light of truth inside himself. The pastor referenced Mack’s “yes” to the Lord. Many of us knew the details: When Tina sensed timed was short for her beloved she took the “final days” steps. She anointed, blessed and prayed over him. The investment quickly reaped dividends. The next morning a scent of spirit-infused oil permeated the room. In addition there was a tremendous calm and even a sense of angels – harbingers of peace, protection and maybe something more. After a litany of vigils, novenas, and sacramentals, a little known neighbor a few houses down the street asked Tina’s permission to pray with her husband. Tina agreed knowing that Mack would have no problem dismissing any spiritual advance, history proved that. With an open door, Renee arrived with no set prescription, just a middle of the night urging that never left her consciousness. It spoke: “Read the word.” The gentle-eyed neighbor cannot recall the verses; Renee does know she began with Revelations, “if anyone hears my voice” and then something from the Matthew. Even though four sound-minded women surrounded Sonny, none can recall the exact words. What is memorable is that the spirit was palpable; this was God’s moment not theirs. One recollection – “if you want Jesus to come in your heart just squeeze my hand…if you want to “tell him yourself now do so.” He made a verbal proclamation, yes he wanted Jesus in his heart and then he wept.

As if Mack welcomed Jesus on a megaphone to the world, the rejoicing began! Families arrived with balloons and the pastor called unexpectedly (and unknowingly) in the heat of the frenzy. Within no time, 30 people were celebrating – the sheep was reunited with its good shepherd. And with all this knowledge, the funeral audience sat silent, intuiting that this was no ordinary funeral. It was a profound moment to “be still and know I am God.”Psalm 46:10

As if this isn’t enough to absorb in one day, testimony #2 also clarifies in my mind’s eye just hours before my head hits the pillow.

8:30pm: I join in the laughter of Tina and her family. The girls are seated around the table telling stories; they say to me, “we just talked about how you used to help Tia in school with your lists to keep her organized and how you were always coaxing her to brush her teeth after lunch to get the egg sandwich out of her braces.” After the laughter, prior to my final departure, Tina confides in me, “I used the box. I did everything on the list.” I knew she meant the “final days” list. She used the holy oil, and prayed the Divine Mercy Chaplet(Day 17) and the rosary.

My amazingly dynamic friend (whose Leo birthday is the same day as my husband’s) is far beyond competent, capable and emotionally stable. There have, however, been three exceptions to this stability over our 33 year history. When she learned, black and white, no turning back, that her husband was indeed going to die of esophageal cancer – that was one of those times.

In the early weeks Tina was caught in a tornado of emotions; three swirled and dizzied her; two of the three caused nausea and lack of sleep. Together with the help of many friends and professionals Tina set her sights on tackling two of them, the robbers of peace: fear and anxiety.

While Tina fought off the attackers on her end, the grade school inner circle, four of us, said a novena (and plenty of rosaries) for miracles for Mack and Tina. For the record, a novena means storming heaven with nine days of intensely focused intention while invoking assistance – the prayers of those especially dear to our Lord. In addition, I spun into my customary list making for Tina except this list wasn’t reminding her to pack her gold cheerleading briefs and the red practice shirt.  Inside the care package were the how to’s with the material to back it up. These lists dealt with a whole new plane of awareness. Here are the main list titles:

When you are experiencing panic and extreme worry for YOURSELF and you do not know where to turn for a second of peace:

When you are experiencing the “final days” for others and you have that consuming stomach feeling:

The first list was meant to give her some practical coping mechanisms during this initial onslaught of emotions and questioning, a list she didn’t need for long.  After about six weeks of full blown funnel clouds, I spoke to Tina on the phone – I could hear it in her voice. It was gone, completely gone. How could this be? A miracle so quickly; there was no sign of worry or fear. Her bravery to tackle the tormentors actually slayed the beast. She was changed; she was a “new creation”2Cor5:17.  During her seeking and knocking at the door of the Lord, not only was it opened, she was seated firmly at his table of plenty. For the remaining 10 months Tina steadfastly carried with her a new peace, a new strength – one that flowed in and through her from above. The beasts were wrestled and completely defeated. She remained in his peace, walking side by side (or floating as she likes to say) with the remaining emotion, sadness. Except now she had two entirely new companions; she was now holding hands with faithfulness and courage. Now she was unshakable in the face of the fiercest storm of her life.

It is with tears of admiration that I share my immense pride and respect for Tina’s openness, tenderness and vulnerability to shoulder this journey perfectly and beautifully by the side of her beloved. After only several weeks of personal struggle, this travail had nothing whatsoever to do with her and had everything to do with him, her with arms and heart wide open with one purpose – to love and to serve.

11:00pm: I prayed the rosary for Mack. Now that he is in the presence of the Lord, I prayed for the repose of his soul, that he could fully experience that presence. Mat12:32, Heb12:14

As I am about to collapse I am startled by the last revelation of the day. Throughout these 10 months I have been so grateful for Mack to have his angel at his side; tonight I marvel at the evolution as I realize something new: Tina wasn’t the only angel. Mack was Tina’s angel, taking her to spiritual heights she would have never reached without him.

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 35
February 8, 2010 – Leave a Response

After my cross country flight I entered my kitchen, oblivious, ready to pour a drink of water. With one simple glance it hit me, and I literally fell over with uncontainable laughter. I left my home 2 days ago with an extreme sense of gratefulness. Completely blessed, I had the luxury, with the wave of a goodbye hand to simply handoff a to-do list; I was able to board the plane to Ohio – left only to attend to my needs (what a rarity). My parents were home to man the ship, perform the school pickup, and oversee weekend activities, replete with a birthday party checklist – for my own son – the day of my return.

During the emotions of my journey  I never had time to check in with the ship captains; after all I come of sturdy stock, I was sure they could weather any storm. Weather it indeed…there on the kitchen counter to the left of my sink was a folded piece of paper with writing belonging to my mother, perfectly standing, nearly blinking in neon, it stated P +C.  What took 13 years to wear me down,   my three stooges did to grandma and grandpa in 48 little hours. My mom too was crying out in secret code for more patience and cheerfulness.

6:30pm: Yes, you have the time right. On this Super Bowl Sunday, just following the 13th birthday party for my son, the family quite peaceably thought it would be best to say our prayers before we watch the game, otherwise it would be too late. With tevo in action for the opening minutes and more importantly, opening commercials, all said prayer requests, and all prayed the Glorious Mysteries while grandpa sat in the other room. He was either asleep or unconscious from the shock of it all.

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 36
February 8, 2010 – Leave a Response

My father joined me in my office this morning as I was transitioning from blogging to working. He settled into a soft chair signaling he wanted to share few thoughts. He marveled to me about the sights he witnessed with his very own eyes. “Without you even being here, he (my husband) prayed the rosary with the kids both days (day 33 and day 34).I think it is a really good thing; the kids share what’s on their mind; it gets everything out in the open; it brings everyone closer.” Next he wondered out loud how the seemingly impossible came to be.

I went on to explain how the experiment manifest in our home, how I went to my husband and shared a desire that was burning in my heart. I told my father that for 8 years I wanted everyone to try this experiment because it is so powerful and because it changed me so much. I explained that things took a strange twist about seven weeks ago. At that time the desire in my heart for the experiment intensified; after much prayer it all became clear – the experiment was meant for me and my family to try, no matter how unlikely this seemed.

At this point I was standing, stepping over to the chaise lounge (aka prayer chair). “While meditating in this chair,” I gestured “I got a mental image of St. Faustina and her left arm was out like this. I opened my eyes and looked in that direction.” I showed my father how her diary was in the big basket on that side and how I opened it randomly only for it to state words to the effect – write everything down of God’s goodness.

With this said I sat down to size up the damage. I wasn’t sure whether I just landed on the complete screwball list or not. In another breath of bravery, I added the part about Julie and Julia and how the movie would not leave my mind and that I decided  “write it down” meant a write a blog like the character Julie in the movie.

His quiet curiosity continued. Next I took him to the computer in the kitchen where I showed him the website www.trytheexperiment.com. I left him alone with Day 1 on the screen. It was about Day7 t when he was dislodged. The school telephoned and my daughter needed to come home due to illness. Dad rose to the call and offered to pick her up, still curiously quiet.

7:30pm: All said prayer requests (if putting it in writing might help our odds, we all really pray that our friends get the house across the lake. It’s not looking good; things are tied up with some kind of family deal.) All contemplated the Joyful Mysteries: the annunciation when the angel comes to Mary and she says “yes”, Jesus’ first encounter with John the Baptist in his mother’s womb, birth of Jesus (“Imagine him being born in your heart,” I add), presentation of Jesus as a baby in the temple (One of Mary’s great sorrows to bear; she knows from infancy the tribulations that lie ahead for her son, the savior of the world.) and finding Jesus in the temple.

After prayers there is an unusual calm. Dustin says to me, “I know this is going to surprise you. There is a part of me that could keep doing this (experiment) forever.” He went on to say “I don’t get to do that much with the whole family all together. I don’t usually get home for family dinners…..something about this feels right.” My newly arrived  teenager says “Yeah me too. I like it. I could do this for another forty days.”

My head and heart spin – I too am curiously quiet.

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 37
February 10, 2010 – Leave a Response

After receiving approval, I just posted Day 34. Please excuse the lengthiness. Given that Day 34 was one of the most memorable days of my life, the details needed to be captured so they could always be remembered.

7:45pm All said prayer requests, all prayed the Sorrowful Mysteries.

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 38
February 12, 2010 – Leave a Response

This morning I entered the in-law suit to visit with my parents. It didn’t take long for me to marvel at the happenings of Day 36. Mom and dad were equally surprised that my husband and son had appeared to soften at the notion of prayer and perhaps even at the notion of God.They wondered aloud about the potential power of such an experiment.

Then came the unexpected, “Honey” my mother said to my father, “lent is coming soon,  maybe we should try the  experiment too – together you and me.”

And with that, all three of us sat, curiously quiet. (Except I imagine, my dad’s rosary praying mother.I picture her up in heaven shouting hip hip hoorays of encouragement.)

7:45pm All said prayer requests. All prayed the Glorious Mysteries.

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 39
February 12, 2010 – Leave a Response

On the way home from flag football this evening my seven-year old said moaningly from the back seat, “Mom(with the “o” sound really long and drawn out) is it almost forty days yet? It sure feels like forty days. It’s gotto be forty days…..Are we almost done yet?” There it was, the question that has been noticeably absent the last 38 days. With the journey nearly complete, Mr. Wiggly reported that he could barely take another evening of containment on the family sofa.

What a sweetheart, he really tried hard all of these days.

8:30pm: All said prayer requests. All prayed the Luminous Mysteries – we all like these. (This mystery gets contemplated only once a week, so it’s a bit of a new mental resting place)

Categorized in Spirituality | Edit
Day 40
February 13, 2010 – Leave a Response

This teacher planning day off from school had us filled with unusual scurrying, the culmination of which was a 7:30pm movie theatre showing of the Lightning Thief where we were to meet Auntie and the kids. The level of busyness necessitated saying the rosary in the car on the way to the show. During the rushed Hail Mary’s, I felt a private tear well up in my eye. First, I was in awe that it was actually Day 40 and that we officially achieved the goal: praying the rosary for 40 consecutive days with a sincere heart. I guess the final part of this last sentence was the other half of my tear. After weeks of momentum leading up to this 40 day moment, the high speed prayers in the car (rushing so we could get in the ticket line) left me saddened. Then came the surprise, my husband, apparently in touch with the lack of sincerity commented to the group that we should repeat this rosary again tomorrow morning  because he didn’t feel comfortable ending the forty days on this note.

Upon exit from the theatre Auntie introduced us to two other kid-toting moms who also joined the movie party. One mom was tall with pensive eyes, friendly yet reserved. The other had welcoming eyes and a soft smile on her face. In that moment it hit me! The family we had been praying for every day since Day 23, this was that family – one of these mothers just suffered the loss of her son.

As we exited the building, I had it figured out in my mind. The mom was pensive and reserved because of her loss. Oh how I wished in that moment I had sent her a silent blessing then maybe we would have made a connection – if she only knew how much we had been praying for her, maybe we could offer her a ray of peace. During this mental pondering, my son broke the silence as he commented that the shorter blonde haired mom with the freckle-faced daughter was the mother of the tragedy. My thoughts went on rewind; the mother exuding peace was the mother. Praise God; like a mental reflex, I longed prayerfully that this mother might always have a biblical peace that passes all understanding. I pondered if her joy was likened to that of Tina and me. I wondered from deep within if this mother’s smile was the same joy Tina and I knew regarding the death of Mack..

As the mental flurry of processing slowed, I had another recognition; perhaps this mother’s peace was yet another moment to “be still and know I am God.”

Day 41
February 15, 2010 – Leave a Response

Today I mustered up my courage. After church I asked the family if there should be a next step to this experiment. After a bit of silence my teenager said he wouldn’t mind saying the rosary for lent. Lent kicks off in three days on Ash Wednesday. Colin and I made plans to revisit the rosary starting on Wednesday.

Given the lackluster response by the remaining family members, I posed this question, “How about if Colin and I pray the rosary for lent and whoever would like to join us can? It will be totally up to you.” Even this appeal didn’t cause much of a stir, just some blunted background noise.

I surmised that in my eagerness for my husband to receive some type of gift from God, perhaps I misinterpretted him. Perhaps he was indeed more enamoured with the notion of family togetherness than something of a higher plane. Yet there certainly were a few tangible nuggets of hope. My husband can now recite the Lord’s Prayer. For 40 days he consistenly used the lord’s name reverently during prayer and even more remarkably – he did this outside of prayer. In addition, in my heart of hearts I believe that he was indeed seeking and knocking at the door of the Lord. This in turn is freeing to me; it gives me a new peace.  A peace that says my God, who cannot be outdone in generosity, will at the perfect time in the perfect way be both the giver and the gift – and because of my husband’s sincere seeking, he will be the recipient.

With this said, Wednesday my son and I will proceed with the march. Later during lent I will make a post; we’ll see then who has joined the parade.

Day 41

Today I mustered up my courage. After church I asked the family if there should be a next step to this experiment. After a bit of silence my teenager said he wouldn’t mind saying the rosary for lent. Lent kicks off in three days on Ash Wednesday. Colin and I made plans to revisit the rosary starting on Wednesday.

Given the lackluster response by the remaining family members, I posed this question, “How about if Colin and I pray the rosary for lent and whoever would like to join us can? It will be totally up to you.” Even this appeal didn’t cause much of a stir, just some blunted background noise.

I surmised that in my eagerness for my husband to receive some type of gift from God, perhaps I misinterpretted him. Perhaps he was indeed more enamoured with the notion of family togetherness than something of a higher plane. Yet there certainly were a few tangible nuggets of hope. My husband can now recite the Lord’s Prayer. For 40 days he consistenly used the lord’s name reverently during prayer and even more remarkably – he did this outside of prayer. In addition, in my heart of hearts I believe that he was indeed seeking and knocking at the door of the Lord. This in turn is freeing to me; it gives me a new peace.  A peace that says my God, who cannot be outdone in generosity, will at the perfect time in the perfect way be both the giver and the gift – and because of my husband’s sincere seeking, he will be the recipient.

With this said, Wednesday my son and I will proceed with the march. Later during lent I will make a post; we’ll see then who has joined the parade.

Day 40

This teacher planning day off from school had us filled with unusual scurrying, the culmination of which was a 7:30pm movie theatre showing of the Lightning Thief where we were to meet Auntie and the kids. The level of busyness necessitated saying the rosary in the car on the way to the show. During the rushed Hail Mary’s, I felt a private tear well up in my eye. First, I was in awe that it was actually Day 40 and that we officially achieved the goal: praying the rosary for 40 consecutive days with a sincere heart. I guess the final part of this last sentence was the other half of my tear. After weeks of momentum leading up to this 40 day moment, the high speed prayers in the car (rushing so we could get in the ticket line) left me saddened. Then came the surprise, my husband, apparently in touch with the lack of sincerity commented to the group that we should repeat this rosary again tomorrow morning  because he didn’t feel comfortable ending the forty days on this note.

Upon exit from the theatre Auntie introduced us to two other kid-toting moms who also joined the movie party. One mom was tall with pensive eyes, friendly yet reserved. The other had welcoming eyes and a soft smile on her face. In that moment it hit me! The family we had been praying for every day since Day 23, this was that family – one of these mothers just suffered the loss of her son.

As we exited the building, I had it figured out in my mind. The mom was pensive and reserved because of her loss. Oh how I wished in that moment I had sent her a silent blessing then maybe we would have made a connection – if she only knew how much we had been praying for her, maybe we could offer her a ray of peace. During this mental pondering, my son broke the silence as he commented that the shorter blonde haired mom with the freckle-faced daughter was the mother of the tragedy. My thoughts went on rewind; the mother exuding peace was the mother. Praise God; like a mental reflex, I longed prayerfully that this mother might always have a biblical peace that passes all understanding. I pondered if her joy was likened to that of Tina and me. I wondered from deep within if this mother’s smile was the same joy Tina and I knew regarding the death of Mack..

As the mental flurry of processing slowed, I had another recognition; perhaps this mother’s peace was yet another moment to “be still and know I am God.”

Day 39

On the way home from flag football this evening my seven-year old said moaningly from the back seat, “Mom(with the “o” sound really long and drawn out) is it almost forty days yet? It sure feels like forty days. It’s gotto be forty days…..Are we almost done yet?” There it was, the question that has been noticeably absent the last 38 days. With the journey nearly complete, Mr. Wiggly reported that he could barely take another evening of containment on the family sofa.

What a sweetheart, he really tried hard all of these days.

8:30pm: All said prayer requests. All prayed the Luminous Mysteries – we all like these. (This mystery gets contemplated only once a week, so it’s a bit of a new mental resting place)

Day 38

This morning I entered the in-law suit to visit with my parents. It didn’t take long for me to marvel at the happenings of Day 36. Mom and dad were equally surprised that my husband and son had appeared to soften at the notion of prayer and perhaps even at the notion of God.They wondered aloud about the potential power of such an experiment.

Then came the unexpected, “Honey” my mother said to my father, “lent is coming soon,  maybe we should try the  experiment too – together you and me.”

And with that, all three of us sat, curiously quiet. (Except I imagine, my dad’s rosary praying mother.I picture her up in heaven shouting hip hip hoorays of encouragement.)

7:45pm All said prayer requests. All prayed the Glorious Mysteries.

Day 37

After receiving approval, I just posted Day 34. Please excuse the lengthiness. Given that Day 34 was one of the most memorable days of my life, the details needed to be captured so they could always be remembered.

7:45pm All said prayer requests, all prayed the Sorrowful Mysteries.

Day 36

My father joined me in my office this morning as I was transitioning from blogging to working. He settled into a soft chair signaling he wanted to share few thoughts. He marveled to me about the sights he witnessed with his very own eyes. “Without you even being here, he (my husband) prayed the rosary with the kids both days (day 33 and day 34).I think it is a really good thing; the kids share what’s on their mind; it gets everything out in the open; it brings everyone closer.” Next he wondered out loud how the seemingly impossible came to be.

I went on to explain how the experiment manifest in our home, how I went to my husband and shared a desire that was burning in my heart. I told my father that for 8 years I wanted everyone to try this experiment because it is so powerful and because it changed me so much. I explained that things took a strange twist about seven weeks ago. At that time the desire in my heart for the experiment intensified; after much prayer it all became clear – the experiment was meant for me and my family to try, no matter how unlikely this seemed.

At this point I was standing, stepping over to the chaise lounge (aka prayer chair). “While meditating in this chair,” I gestured “I got a mental image of St. Faustina and her left arm was out like this. I opened my eyes and looked in that direction.” I showed my father how her diary was in the big basket on that side and how I opened it randomly only for it to state words to the effect – write everything down of God’s goodness.

With this said I sat down to size up the damage. I wasn’t sure whether I just landed on the complete screwball list or not. In another breath of bravery, I added the part about Julie and Julia and how the movie would not leave my mind and that I decided  “write it down” meant a write a blog like the character Julie in the movie.

His quiet curiosity continued. Next I took him to the computer in the kitchen where I showed him the website www.trytheexperiment.com. I left him alone with Day 1 on the screen. It was about Day7 t when he was dislodged. The school telephoned and my daughter needed to come home due to illness. Dad rose to the call and offered to pick her up, still curiously quiet.

7:30pm: All said prayer requests (if putting it in writing might help our odds, we all really pray that our friends get the house across the lake. It’s not looking good; things are tied up with some kind of family deal.) All contemplated the Joyful Mysteries: the annunciation when the angel comes to Mary and she says “yes”, Jesus’ first encounter with John the Baptist in his mother’s womb, birth of Jesus (“Imagine him being born in your heart,” I add), presentation of Jesus as a baby in the temple (One of Mary’s great sorrows to bear; she knows from infancy the tribulations that lie ahead for her son, the savior of the world.) and finding Jesus in the temple.

After prayers there is an unusual calm. Dustin says to me, “I know this is going to surprise you. There is a part of me that could keep doing this (experiment) forever.” He went on to say “I don’t get to do that much with the whole family all together. I don’t usually get home for family dinners…..something about this feels right.” My newly arrived  teenager says “Yeah me too. I like it. I could do this for another forty days.”

My head and heart spin – I too am curiously quiet.

Day 35

After my cross country flight I entered my kitchen, oblivious, ready to pour a drink of water. With one simple glance it hit me, and I literally fell over with uncontainable laughter. I left my home 2 days ago with an extreme sense of gratefulness. Completely blessed, I had the luxury, with the wave of a goodbye hand to simply handoff a to-do list; I was able to board the plane to Ohio – left only to attend to my needs (what a rarity). My parents were home to man the ship, perform the school pickup, and oversee weekend activities, replete with a birthday party checklist – for my own son – the day of my return.

During the emotions of my journey  I never had time to check in with the ship captains; after all I come of sturdy stock, I was sure they could weather any storm. Weather it indeed…there on the kitchen counter to the left of my sink was a folded piece of paper with writing belonging to my mother, perfectly standing, nearly blinking in neon, it stated P +C.  What took 13 years to wear me down,   my three stooges did to grandma and grandpa in 48 little hours. My mom too was crying out in secret code for more patience and cheerfulness.

6:30pm: Yes, you have the time right. On this Super Bowl Sunday, just following the 13^th birthday party for my son, the family quite peaceably thought it would be best to say our prayers before we watch the game, otherwise it would be too late. With tevo in action for the opening minutes and more importantly, opening commercials, all said prayer requests, and all prayed the Glorious Mysteries while grandpa sat in the other room. He was either asleep or unconscious from the shock of it all.

Day 34

Ten days ago I received the following email from my husband:

“The weirdest thing just happened to me.  A strange woman came into my office from outside and asked to sit and talk with me for a bit.  We talked for about 5 minutes. Right before she left she looked at me and stated that she felt I was a man who has broad intellectual interests and is accomplished in areas of both the arts and the sciences.  It was weird, and I am not sure what it all meant.”

Earlier that morning I was singing the praises of the Classical Homoeopathist whose remedy was helping my digestive issues calm down. Knowing some of the doctor’s background, I then remarked with a sense of marvel, “He’s a true Renaissance Man.” I had such a dreamy sound in my voice that my husband was alarmed. Not only had the four-wheelin’, truck drivin’, music blarin’, bare footin’ love of my life never heard of this term, he demanded an immediate Webster’s definition.  “Ha” I chuckled “looks like you’ll have to find this one out for yourself,” Little did I know I would be laughing uncontrollably three hours later when he googled the subject and sent me the exact words stated above.  What my husband lacks in the sciences and arts he more than compensates for in humor and personality; he had me giggling sporadically throughout the day because of his antics. 

It is with this definition that I attempt to tell about one of the most remarkable days of my life. So many pieces of the puzzle fused together in 12 short hours that I shudder at the attempt to make the words come as alive as the moments. Here is my try at sharing the two testimonies that made their debut to me during the last few hours.

1:30pm:  Center stage at the funeral for Mack were Teresa his sister, two step children, the Principal where Mack taught school and the spirit-filled pastor. The tone was set with a video presentation of photos: Mack the child, the horned rimmed schoolager/geek, the self taught magician, the military man, the showman and cruise ship entertainer, the coach, graduation day for this adult learner, the dad to which there was no “step” of separation from his children and  of course, the husband.

Pastor Colledge opened the ceremony remarking that this word does not apply to many people but for Mack it was a fit, he was indeed a Renaissance Man and through gladness and sorrow we were about to learn more about this special soul. First Teresa tearfully and bravely took the stage. She told the story the pictures did not tell; Mack was left as a youngster to find his own path as he suffered abuse and ridicule in the home. Activities outside the home were not permitted, including the sport he adored but never officially played- baseball. Despite tremendous obstacles, Mack persevered; outlets were diligence at school, learning magic tricks in his room, and listening to “the greatest band of all time – Kiss.” Teresa admired how her brother forged a path for himself despite being dealt cards heavily stacked against him.

He also forged ahead in the area of relationships, evidenced as his no-step daughter read her poem of memories – sweet Amanda captivated us all. She read sentence after sentence about the little moments: the early morning pancakes,  the time you were shuffles the Clown at my school, the lunches you packed, our trip across country when we moved – line after line Sarah revealed a father who poured every ounce of his daily being into giving and loving with all he had. Even more notable was Amanda’s on stage persona; her poise, grace and finesse were clearly fruits of a plant that had been fertilized with love and attention from every angle. Her 11 year old brother displayed the same special pruning as he proclaimed boldly: ” I am here before you with no prepared speech. I am here as someone with a great deal of passion. I am here to honor an amazing man.” This boy in that moment was as regal as the grandest of king’s, his stage presence alone gave tribute and homage to the man he adored.

Next the principal offered her heart felt experience of Mack. She stated that as a principal you never really know how good of a job a teacher is doing inside of the classroom, but for her, the facebook comments over the last few weeks gave her concrete evidence; this teacher truly worked his magic with his class full of  inner city youth. For over four and one half months he captured the hearts and minds of his students and because of selfless giving of time and talents he was deeply embedded into the school culture in record time. This school leader beamed as she spoke of Mack, her instinct to trust was confirmed; her executive decision to hire Mack at this faith based school, despite his inability to make a statement of belief in Jesus Christ, was confirmed. This man’s life journey melted hearts and opened minds; Mack had been walking in the Light and didn’t even know it.

It is difficult to capture the momentum of this funeral service – each speaker was unknowingly delivering a logical chapter in a life story which had never before been told: Mack’s testimony was unfolding before our very eyes and ears. The pastor added the next element, an allusion to an unlikely reference, 1Samuel, chapter 18. Here he describes how the son of a king, Jonathon, lays down his royal robe, tunic, even his sword and belt , all he has. Jonathon gave all of himself with perfect abandon. Pastor felt  Mack too “laid it all down”  for the people in his life.

Next, in a moment that was anything but prepared, clearly enraptured in the now, the pastor astutely summarized the progression of speakers and added the final chapter: the moment when the veil of unknowing was lifted for Mack; the moment Mack saw the light of love clearly, the love that had been poured on him from every angle. More importantly, he saw the light of truth inside himself. The pastor referenced Mack’s “yes” to the Lord. Many of us knew the details: When Tina sensed timed was short for her beloved she took the “final days” steps. She anointed, blessed and prayed over him. The investment quickly reaped dividends. The next morning a scent of spirit-infused oil permeated the room. In addition there was a tremendous calm and even a sense of angels – harbingers of peace, protection and maybe something more. After a litany of vigils, novenas, and sacramentals, a little known neighbor a few houses down the street asked Tina’s permission to pray with her husband. Tina agreed knowing that Mack would have no problem dismissing any spiritual advance, history proved that. With an open door, Renee arrived with no set prescription, just a middle of the night urging that never left her consciousness. It spoke: “Read the word.” The gentle-eyed neighbor cannot recall the verses; Renee does know she began with Revelations, “if anyone hears my voice” and then something from the Matthew. Even though four sound-minded women surrounded Sonny, none can recall the exact words. What is memorable is that the spirit was palpable; this was God’s moment not theirs. One recollection – “if you want Jesus to come in your heart just squeeze my hand…if you want to “tell him yourself now do so.” He made a verbal proclamation, yes he wanted Jesus in his heart and then he wept.

As if Mack welcomed Jesus on a megaphone to the world, the rejoicing began! Families arrived with balloons and the pastor called unexpectedly (and unknowingly) in the heat of the frenzy. Within no time, 30 people were celebrating – the sheep was reunited with its good shepherd. And with all this knowledge, the funeral audience sat silent, intuiting that this was no ordinary funeral. It was a profound moment to “be still and know I am God.”Psalm 46:10

As if this isn’t enough to absorb in one day, testimony #2 also clarifies in my mind’s eye just hours before my head hits the pillow.

8:30pm: I join in the laughter of Tina and her family. The girls are seated around the table telling stories; they say to me, “we just talked about how you used to help Tia in school with your lists to keep her organized and how you were always coaxing her to brush her teeth after lunch to get the egg sandwich out of her braces.” After the laughter, prior to my final departure, Tina confides in me, “I used the box. I did everything on the list.” I knew she meant the “final days” list. She used the holy oil, and prayed the Divine Mercy Chaplet(Day 17) and the rosary.

My amazingly dynamic friend (whose Leo birthday is the same day as my husband’s) is far beyond competent, capable and emotionally stable. There have, however, been three exceptions to this stability over our 33 year history. When she learned, black and white, no turning back, that her husband was indeed going to die of esophageal cancer – that was one of those times.

In the early weeks Tina was caught in a tornado of emotions; three swirled and dizzied her; two of the three caused nausea and lack of sleep. Together with the help of many friends and professionals Tina set her sights on tackling two of them, the robbers of peace: fear and anxiety.

While Tina fought off the attackers on her end, the grade school inner circle, four of us, said a novena (and plenty of rosaries) for miracles for Mack and Tina. For the record, a novena means storming heaven with nine days of intensely focused intention while invoking assistance – the prayers of those especially dear to our Lord. In addition, I spun into my customary list making for Tina except this list wasn’t reminding her to pack her gold cheerleading briefs and the red practice shirt.  Inside the care package were the how to’s with the material to back it up. These lists dealt with a whole new plane of awareness. Here are the main list titles:

When you are experiencing panic and extreme worry for YOURSELF and you do not know where to turn for a second of peace:

When you are experiencing the “final days” for others and you have that consuming stomach feeling:

The first list was meant to give her some practical coping mechanisms during this initial onslaught of emotions and questioning, a list she didn’t need for long.  After about six weeks of full blown funnel clouds, I spoke to Tina on the phone – I could hear it in her voice. It was gone, completely gone. How could this be? A miracle so quickly; there was no sign of worry or fear. Her bravery to tackle the tormentors actually slayed the beast. She was changed; she was a “new creation”2Cor5:17.  During her seeking and knocking at the door of the Lord, not only was it opened, she was seated firmly at his table of plenty. For the remaining 10 months Tina steadfastly carried with her a new peace, a new strength – one that flowed in and through her from above. The beasts were wrestled and completely defeated. She remained in his peace, walking side by side (or floating as she likes to say) with the remaining emotion, sadness. Except now she had two entirely new companions; she was now holding hands with faithfulness and courage. Now she was unshakable in the face of the fiercest storm of her life.

It is with tears of admiration that I share my immense pride and respect for Tina’s openness, tenderness and vulnerability to shoulder this journey perfectly and beautifully by the side of her beloved. After only several weeks of personal struggle, this travail had nothing whatsoever to do with her and had everything to do with him, her with arms and heart wide open with one purpose – to love and to serve. 

11:00pm: I prayed the rosary for Mack. Now that he is in the presence of the Lord, I prayed for the repose of his soul, that he could fully experience that presence. Mat12:32, Heb12:14

As I am about to collapse I am startled by the last revelation of the day. Throughout these 10 months I have been so grateful for Mack to have his angel at his side; tonight I marvel at the evolution as I realize something new: Tina wasn’t the only angel. Mack was Tina’s angel, taking her to spiritual heights she would have never reached without him.

Day 33

Traveling again to Ohio. As I catch my breath before the pre-funeral activities, I am startled by emotions. I notice myself smiling in the airport. Joy is radiating from a place very deep. I recognize instantly that I could be sitting here in the airport flying to console my friend; I could be saying “Well Ti, you never know what happens at that moment of death; I am sure there is a private window of time when the soul faces its maker and in that moment the soul either draws near and says “yes” or turns away. Ti, he may have said “yes” …we have to hang on to that hope.” But no, I am not saying this. Instead my heart overflows with gratitude.

What a tremendous gift God has given us. We were able to witness the “yes”. Her husband could have had his moment privately, yet private or public the outcome would be the same. He would have been counted among God’s chosen people. Instead I can say to Tina, “Your husband’s witness in your house on that bed holding your hand – this was God’s gift to us. God made it clear that our prayer was answered. How truly marvelous, how humbling that the God who created the heavens and the earth reached down to us and gave us this gift.”

Later, I watched Tina greet the line of people who were touched by the life of her husband. The men, women and children came from the school  in which he taught, the teams that he coached, the brotherhood of magicians with whom he bonded and  the family and friends who were in awe of his strength ( he never complained despite the violent form of cancer that took his life). Throughout all of this contact, one thing stood out to me as I sat watching protectively nearby: Tina greeted one and all with a genuine, knowing smile – her joy uncontainable.